


Split

by Fitzsimmons_Forever



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Adorkable, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Dorks in Love, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fred being Fred, Insecurity, Light Angst, Magic, Mutual Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, clumsyness, compliments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzsimmons_Forever/pseuds/Fitzsimmons_Forever
Summary: A nervous, lovestruck genius physicist. A resigned, lovestruck Englishman. One night at Wolfram & Hart.Fred finds something magical, with the potential to solve all her problems. Specifically, the particularly fascinating and singularly frustrating problem posed by Wesley-Wyndam Pryce... but magic always has consequences. And Winifred Burkle is not ready to deal with them. Not one little bit.





	1. Gemini

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fun, light-hearted fic entirely inspired by a certain episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I hope you enjoy it!

“Fred?” Knox knocked on the door of my office sheepishly, sticking his head around the corner.

“Yes, Knox?” I looked up and smiled friendlily.

“The latest archaeological haul from Sunnydale just came in.” I opened my mouth to chide him but Knox beat me to it. “Sorry, I know it’s not _technically_ archaeology but they are digging artefacts out of the ground, carrying them back here, then dumping the treasure trove in a huge pile so it seems close enough, y’know?”

“They dumped them in a pile?” I blinked. Knox nodded. I groaned and rested my head in my hands. Why couldn’t they just organise them _neatly_ , it would take them all of five minutes and save me an hour’s work sorting through it. I let out a frustrated huff, glancing at the clock: 7:30pm. No way I was getting home for hours yet if I had to look through the trove… so I might as well get stuck in.

I stood up, stretched, yawned (God, I was tired), and blinked myself back to awareness. Knox was still standing in the doorway, looking at me oddly. I swallowed. “Umm… do you think maybe you could…”

“Right.” Knox nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll just…” He left the office. I shook my head to clear it, then grabbed my portable computer, clipboard, and plastic gloves and headed for the relevant storage room. 

I’d made it _really_ clear to Knox - in the nicest way I could - that I just wanted to be friends and coworkers, nothing more. But he… really wasn’t acting on it. It wasn’t even like we’d gone out, I mean, it had just been _one_ date! Dinner and a movie. One mediocre film, a slightly better tuna steak, and zero spark. He’d get the hint eventually, right?

Although if Wesley was any indication, my ‘hints’ were nowhere near obvious enough. I’d been dropping little signs for almost two weeks, and he hadn’t spotted _any_ of them. Unless he’d chosen not to act on them, because wouldn’t it just be typical that right when I started to think about him that way, he decided he didn’t-

Deep breaths, Fred. Focus on the not-archaeology. I turned the last corner and opened the door to the Sunnydale Ruins Reclamation Project (SURRP, as I - and only I - liked to call it). I sighed dejectedly: Knox hadn’t been kidding. It looked like they’d dug out whatever they could find, thrown it all in the back of a truck, then dumped the load in the middle of the - admittedly large - room. The result was a pile of stuff a foot or so taller than I was, and random bits and bobs scattered all over the floor of the room. Still, some of those random bits and bobs had turned out to be dangerous in the past: ancient talismans, books of dark magic, a cursed fedora… someone had to sort through it. And that someone was me, so I had better just-

What was Knox doing here?

“Knox?” I frowned, slowly edging around the pile of stuff blocking most of my vision to confirm that, yes, it was Knox standing there with a clipboard and a pen.

“Hi, Fred.” He shot me a lopsided grin. “Ready to get going?”  
“Umm…” My frown deepened of its own volition. “What do you mean?”

“Pile of stuff that’s not archeological?” He gestured to the pile. “You wanted me to help, right?”

“Umm…” _This_ was where he’d gone after he left my office. I had previously complained (just a little!) that this was boring solitary work and I wish I had someone else to do it with… to _Wesley_ , who’d nodded sympathetically and tentatively suggested that Knox would be happy to help… right as Knox had come around the corner. 

But if doing this alone was a chore, then doing it with Knox here while he - if my suspicions were correct - spent the night flirting at me would be _horrible_. “Actually, Knox, I… I think it would be better if you kept an eye on the rest of the lab.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Right. Sure. I just… kind of thought we could spend the evening together. Like we used to.”

Oh God. “We… we did talk about this.” I focused on my clipboard, glancing only momentarily at him. 

“Yeah, but, I felt like I didn’t really… get a chance to, y’know… talk back?” Knox fidgeted with his clipboard. 

“There’s really… nothing to be said.” I looked at him. “Sorry.”

There was a deeply uncomfortable pause.

Knox nodded slowly. “I… err… I’ll get back to the lab.”

“Good call.” I smiled encouragingly.

“Of course it is, you made it!” Knox grinned half-heartedly. I fought the urge to curl up into a ball on the floor out of embarrassment. I made a noise that was vaguely affirmative and fixed my gaze on a random object in the pile that I pretended to be fascinated by. I didn’t look away until I heard the door swing shut behind him, at which point I let a dejected groan escape me: why couldn’t my life ever be simple? 

I began to try and sort the mundane objects in the pile (random magazine, half a chair leg) from the interesting. I scrutinised the writing in a leather-bound book and sighed heavily: some ancient language. But was it a short story or a spell-book? I was a total dummy when it came to ancient languages (my Latin was _barely_ fluent)… I really wish Wesley was here. He could tell me what the book was and help me sort all of this out.

But I also wished he was here because I wanted to spend time with him. We could chat about all these random relics, lament the pig-headedness of the delivery people, agree on why archaeology was a grossly inaccurate term for this work, and just… catch up. Then maybe catch dinner. Or a movie. Or both.

But with sparks.

He would probably come if I asked him to. I wouldn’t have to do much. Just call his office, explain I was bogged down with the Sunnydale discovery and would he _please_ come down to help me translate some books and sort through the trove. He’d be happy to help! We could spend some time together, and have fun, and…

…he’d fall behind on his work, have to come in tomorrow and work early to catch up, end up exhausted, and get less time to spend doing what he wanted to do (Lord knows he had precious little of that anyway). It would be selfish of me to ask him. I couldn’t ask him. That was why I wasn’t going to ask him. It wasn’t because I was worried he didn’t return my feelings, or because I was petrified-

Ooh, shiny!

A burnished, dark wooden rod-thing was sticking out of the pile about halfway up, exposed when I’d taken the book off the pile, light glinting off it. I carefully stepped up to it, squinting at the symbols carved carefully into the surface. Latin. Definitely Latin, but I could only see half the writing: the rest were on the half of the rod stuck inside the pile. “Now you do look interesting…” I murmured, running one gloved hand carefully along its length. The symbols were carved into it, not painted on, which meant if it was magic, it had been made carefully. Which meant it was probably powerful. Something worth Wesley’s attention.

Something I would have a reasonable pretext to take straight to him… If only I knew what it said…just had to get it out of the pile…

“C’mon!” I tugged gently on the stick. It didn’t budge. “Please?” I tugged slightly harder. It wiggled slightly, but somehow ended up more stuck. I rolled up my sleeves, gripped it firmly with both hands and began to pull harder. “Look just make this easy for both of us… you let me drag you out… I’ll make sure Wesley gets a look at you… we’ll find out what you do… you might even get to see some use… I’ll get to have dinner… come… on… gotcha!”

The stick came free and I grinned, stumbling back a step, rod thudding into my stomach with the force of the movement. The end of the rod glowed bright yellow. Oh, bloody he-

There was a noise like a firework going off and a burning sensation in my chest. I yelped, stomach leaping into my mouth as I was tossed off my feet and flew into the nearest wall with a _thud._

Ow, my… my _head._ That stung. My head was swimming, and my legs felt like jelly, and my back…

“Oof. Ow. Ouchie.” I rubbed my head experimentally, wincing at another jolt of pain. Note to self: do not agitate potentially magical sticks. Well, at least I hadn’t been transformed into a duck. I opened my eyes and looked down at myself: yep, not a duck. Or green or anything. Just little old me. 

_Achey_ , little old me. 

I should probably go to medical, have them check for a concussion, the way my head was spinning. Have a nice lie-down, a hot cocoa - did medical here do hot cocoa? I hoped so - and recover myself a little bit. Maybe if I was lucky Wesley might hear about it, then he might come and see me, to check if I was alright… because he cared? 

My heart did a distracting little flutter. Well, even if Wesley wouldn’t come and see me - which he would, right? He would come and see me, wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he? - I should go to medical to get checked out for my head and the burn I must have on my stomach… which wasn’t hurting at all. I poked at my stomach: no marks. No pain. Which was weird considering a few seconds ago I felt like I’d been hit by a red-hot poker travelling at terminal velocity (well, not actually terminal velocity, because then I definitely wouldn’t be around to identify it as travelling at terminal velocity).

I heard a groaning noise from across the room and stiffened. Oh my god. What if it was like a magic lamp and I’d unleashed an evil entity? (or Knox had come back? I couldn’t deal with that! What if he said something? What if he _flirted_? What was I supposed to do if he did that, that would be horrible!) This could be bad. I had to get help! I couldn’t deal with this!

I stumbled to my feet - head swimming unpleasantly - and steadied myself against the wall, trying to get my bearings. I looked around the room, searching for the source of the noise, and froze. My throat went dry. Marching across the room towards me was an _exact duplicate of me._ She looked _exactly_ like me. My height, my hair, my eyes… but my eyes looked _wrong_ on her, because they were fixed on me with a terrible intensity as she marched confidently towards me.

Oh God. The demon looked just like me but it was probably super strong and… I had to _run!_

I sprinted for the exit, but _it_ sprinted too, before catching me with some kind of judo move that ended up with me pinned face first against the wall, head spinning and arms trapped. 

This really wasn’t my day at all.

“I thought you’d be tougher.” Fake-me frowned at me, looking perplexed. I whimpered. Her voice was exactly like mine. It was beyond creepy. “I mean, when you see your demon duplicate, you figure they’ve gotta have some pretty neat moves, y’know-” Like unfair judo flips. “- but you just made a break for it. I mean… what were you planning, doppelgänger?”

“I’ll never…” I blinked. Hang on. “Wait… what do you mean, doppelgänger? You’re the doppelgänger!” I wasn’t a demon, I was _me._

Fake-me let out a snort of laughter - she sounded exactly like I did when I did that but she looked so much _cuter_ , that was so unfair! - and raised an eyebrow. “That’s a good one.”

“Are you… in denial?” I frowned. “You… you do get I know you’re lying, right? Because I’m me? And you’re the copy of me that I just accidentally made when I grabbed the evil stick? You… there’s really no point lying to me, since I’m at your mercy and all…”

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but…” My double trailed off, eyes widening for a moment. She changed direction mid-sentence. “In three seconds, say any number!”

That was weird. I guess no harm in cooperating if it meant this thing didn’t break my arms. I counted to three, then spoke. “Three point one four one five nine…” I trailed off, eyes widening. My duplicate had said the exact same thing, at the _exact same time._ Did that mean she was… were we…

“That doesn’t prove anything, really.” She murmured, squinting at me. “Who wouldn’t choose pi, I mean, that’s the only sensible choice of a… again! We go again.”

And again, on the count of three, we spoke in perfect unison. “Six point zero two times ten to the power of twenty three!”

“Avogadro’s number?” I blinked, eyes widening, realising too late what I’d said. “What am I, a chemist? Lord, that’s embarrassing.”

My double was staring at me, eyes wide. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Are we…” I frowned. “ _Both_ us?”

“I… I think we might be.” She let go of my arms and stood up, backing off. I straightened up quick as I could, fumbling to put my glasses on, peering at her more closely. She pulled hers out of her pocket and put them on smoothly as I scrutinised her.

Same outfit and glasses. Same tiny little zit that _refused_ to go away or be properly hidden by concealer… very similar intrigued expression… 

She lifted one hand up tentatively, palm out. I raised my own to mirror it and tentativelypushed my palm against hers. Everything lined up exactly. She wrinkled her nose. “I thought my hand would feel warmer…” She murmured.

“We’ve probably got the exact same body temperature?” I suggested, frowning.

“Oh, right. Of course. Sure.” She nodded. Then she poked me. 

“Hey!” I jerked back. “What was that for?”

“Just checking.” She pinched herself and winced. I followed suit. Ouchie. “Okay, so… not dreaming.” She frowned.

“Me neither.” I chewed my lip thoughtfully. But if she was… if we were the same… “What did you have for breakfast this morning?”

“That’s a trick question.” She coloured slightly. “I got up late, fell out of bed, showered, put on mismatched socks and rushed to the lab, worked for three hours, then collapsed in my office with biscuits and coffee as my first ‘meal’ - term applied loosely - of the day.”

“Oh.” That was exactly what I’d done. But there was nothing _wrong_ with biscuits for breakfast! Or brunch. People did that all the time… they did in Italy! And mismatched socks were cute… weren’t they? I bet Wesley would think my mismatched socks were cute. “I err… suppose I can not bother asking you all those followup questions I had about my…” I swallowed, replacing the next word with great effort. “… _our_ childhood.”

“I could tell you about our disastrous seventh grade birthday party if you like?”

I cringed. “Oh, God no. Living through that once was enough.”

“Not to mention the bad dreams afterwards…” She murmured.

“For weeks!” I agreed, burying my face in my hands.

There was a very awkward silence. “So.” Other me looked around awkwardly, kicking her heels. “Any ideas?”

“I… I think we should probably do some research.” I suggested hesitantly.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Thanks.” I said absently, opening up the computer. “Why don’t you translate the Latin on the stick while I try to figure out what it is?”

“Sounds good.” She nodded, spinning on her heel to walk over to the stick. Her hair billowed out in a lush, dark curtain behind her, then fell back into perfect shape as it settled, tumbling over her shoulders. I pouted enviously: I could practically feel my hair tangling itself just from _standing still._

I shook my head - more important things to think about than hair! - and sat on the floor to log into my PC, still inwardly reeling. She couldn’t be _me_ , surely? She was so… violent. And confident. And pretty.

I began to look through our online Sunnydale archive. There should be an index of known magic sticks somewhere in here… “Any progress?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder as the search bar slowly ticked up.

She was crouched on the floor next to the stick, eyebrows knit together as she squinted at it, eyes tracking back and forth along its length. “I can’t translate this bit.” She frowned, pointing to a piece of the staff. I shuffled over, keeping the laptop on my… well, lap. I glanced at the writing. Ooh.

“Oh, that is a toughie.” I nodded sympathetically. “It’s the word for bonded.”

“Of course.” Other me nodded, then frowned. “I should have known that.”

I shrugged. “Happens to everyone.”

“Ever happen to you?” She took off her glasses, raising an eyebrow at me. I fought the urge to remove my own glasses, because I was still going to be reading, and I was _not_ going to just follow her lead mindlessly. 

“I… I guess…” I wilted under her intense gaze. “… not.”

“You’re clearly better than me at researching things, Winifred.” She shrugged. “Don’t be embarrassed about it.”

  
“Thanks.” I smiled, then frowned. “Hey! Don’t call me ‘Winifred’.”

“How else should we differentiate between us?” She raised an eyebrow sceptically, pointing at herself. “I’m Fred. Logically, we should call you Winifred.”

“No, I get that… that if we’re potentially the same we should have different names but…” My tone sounded kind of petulant, didn’t it? “But why do _I_ have to be Winifred?” 

“Because you’re the girly one.” Fred said, matter-of-factly, like she was _born_ knowing everything.

“I…” This was _unbelievable_. My duplicate was picking on me? Where were her _manners?_ “I am _not.”_

“Then why are you pouting?”

I stopped pouting abruptly. God, I hadn’t even realised I’d been doing it. “I’m not.”

“Sure.” Fred folded her arms. “Would you prefer to be called ‘Fred number two’?”

I sagged. “…No.” I mumbled rebelliously.

“Thought so.” She scooted up to me, looking over my shoulder at the screen. “God, that progress bar is taking _forever_. One of us should rewire this later.”

“It’s a big archive, and ‘stick, magic’ isn’t exactly an easy filter to search on.” I pointed out. “Give it time.”

Other me huffed quietly and folded her arms, beginning to pace. 

“Would you stop that please?” I frowned, craning my neck to look at her. “You’re stressing me out.”

She stopped and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Winifred.” 

I didn’t like being called _Winifred_. Not even Mom called me Winifred.

“Here we go!” The search records appeared and I began to scan through them. Here was one… Picture matched the stick on the floor. A Ferula Gemini. Used by Toth against the slayer…

“It splits the target into two separate bodies.” Fred murmured, looking over to make eye contact. “Each embodying different aspects of the original’s personality.”

“So… neither of us are me. The original me.” I frowned. “Or rather, we’re like different halves of her, with the same memories and appearance but different skills and whatnot.”

“Seems like.” Fred looked me over analytically, then glanced at the stick. “Considering I couldn’t translate that Latin and you could, you clearly got the brains. Well, more than fifty percent of them at least.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I frowned, feeling heat flood my cheeks at the compliment. “There’s no evidence to suggest I’m-”

“What’s thirty-two multiplied by ninety-seven?”

“Three-thousand-one-hundred and four.” I said automatically. Why had she… “Oh. I guess you’re right. Well, I mean…”

I looked her over in response, the events of the last couple of minutes taking on new significance. “You clearly got the social skills. And the survival and combat skills…” She smiled gratefully, dipping her head graciously. I held back a giggle. Her eyes seemed to sparkle slightly in the light, lips curled into the _cutest_ little smile. God she looked so… so put-together and beautiful. How did she do that? “And the looks.”

Fred frowned at me confusedly. “No, I didn’t. Winifred… we’re literally physically identical.”

I looked over at her immaculate visage, then down at myself. I frowned, folding my arms around myself. “Are… are you _sure?”_

“Looks like I got all the self-confidence too.” She sighed. “There was precious little of that to spare when there was only one of us.”

I fought to avoid flushing with envy. God, that was so _unfair!_ I had to be the version of myself without any of the self-confidence, painstakingly learned social skills, or hard-earned survival skills while all she lost was the ability to read Latin and do math a little faster?

I tried to imagine how great it would feel to have all that brimming self-confidence, absolute faith in yourself…

“How do you feel?” I asked, curious despite myself.

Fred frowned thoughtfully - no wonder she’d managed to argue herself into having the better name! - and did a small, experimental jump, eyes moving around the room. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then grinned broadly at me. “Kind of… invincible.” Knew it. “What about you? Do you feel… any different?”

I bit my lip thoughtfully, following her example - minus the jump - by closing my eyes and breathing in, thinking over how I’d felt a few minutes ago. I felt a bit less self-assured, as I’d already noticed, which definitely sucked. Like middle school all over again. And I was definitely less coordinated physically. But in other terms…

My mind felt like it was _racing_. Going at a million miles per hour. I was itching to get stuck into researching the Ferula Gemini, figuring out how it worked, where the atoms to construct an additional body plus paraphernalia had come from, how exactly my memories had been perfectly copied and more! Did I have one soul or two? If you put me and Fred in separate rooms and made us play iterated Prisoner’s dilemma, would we play the same strategies? If you monitored our brainwave activity, how similar would it be? Did altering self-confidence significantly affect posture, or heartrate, or physical endurance?

I felt kinda dizzy, truth be told. But in a good way. Like a dizzy from spinning around in joy rather than dizzy from a bad sea journey (I wonder if she also got seasick, or whether that would just be me?).

“Like I could beat any problem, crack any puzzle, or solve any mystery.” I hesitated. “As long as it didn’t involve talking to people.”

“Two Fred Burkles.” Fred grinned, pulling me to my feet, gripping my hands tightly. “Imagine if we could stay this way. The world wouldn’t know what hit it.”

“Maybe not.” I agreed diplomatically. “But I don’t think we should stay this way for long. I mean, there’s the problem of taxes, hot water and food consumption, who gets to sleep on the comfy side of the bed, we should start looking into how we could-”

Fred drew a sharp intake of breath, eyes widening. I trailed off. She blinked, then smiled at me. “Winifred, I just had a _great_ idea!”

“Ooh, what is it?” I asked: anything that had me this excited had to be good news.

“Let’s not join ourselves back together just yet.” She held up both hands placatingly. “ _Soon_ , very soon, but not immediately.”

“But… why not?” I frowned. “Surely the whole is greater than the sum of its parts? Except in terms of clothing, and glasses, and possibly in terms of atoms assuming that-”

“You want to be with Wesley, right?” Fred interrupted me with a coy smile.

I felt myself go red as a tomato. Oh my God. She was me, so… so she _knew._ She knew how I felt and what I daydreamed about and… and… “What? What do you mean, I… I mean… I’ve been paying more attention to him lately, in a very friendly way, and I’ve been wanting to spend more time with him because he’s great, not necessarily because…”

Fred just arched one eyebrow, treating me to a truly magnificent smirk. I bet I couldn’t carry that off anymore.

“We were the same person one hour ago, Winifred.” Fred leaned in. “Don’t worry, and don’t be embarrassed. I want him too. Don’t you?”

I swallowed. “Yes, I… I really really want that. Him. Wesley.”

“You want to hold hands…” She took both my hands and squeezed gently. “… kiss gently, go for walks on moonlit beaches, explore libraries together, go out for breakfasts and brunches, movies and dinners… right?”

I nodded shyly, still feeling slightly warm in the cheeks. “Right.”

“But you’re nervous about actually getting to that point. Taking the leap.” Fred smiled sympathetically. “I _know_ , because half an hour ago I was there when we talked ourselves out of inviting him down here to spend some time together.”

‘Nervous’ was putting it lightly. Just the _mention_ of Wesley had set my heart hammering and my stomach doing inconvenient flips. 

But the idea of having to talk to him…

That made me feel very afraid. I had no social skills! Fred had all of those! What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t be allowed to-

Oh! 

“I think I see where you’re coming from.” I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “Fred 1.0 was both of us together. Which means the suave, confident part of her is all mixed up with the shy, nervous part of her, represented by you and me respectively. And when all that is mixed up, she’s too nervous to make a move. And on my own, I’m _way_ too nervous to make a move. But you alone…”

“Told you you were the smart one.” Fred grinned, punching me gently in the shoulder. I rubbed my shoulder and grinned back. “So what I’m saying is, carpe diem! You stay here with a book of something for a little while, while I go and talk to Wesley. I’ll get all the work done, set something up, then we’ll merge back together and _bam_ , off to the races.”

I frowned, thinking it through carefully. “And once we get joined back up, logically we’ll both have to remember everything.”

“It’s the brain transplant joint-survival case!” Fred nodded vigorously. “Logically, we _both_ have to be the original Fred, or it’s a paradox! So getting joined back together works the same way.”

I thought about it, pursing my lips. So… I wouldn’t actually have to do anything. I wouldn’t have to flirt or talk to him on my own… just wait here a little bit for Fred to work her magic, then we’d get put back together and I’d be about to go out on a date with Wesley! My stomach did a backflip of the nice variety and I felt a lovely warmth rush over me.

“Okay, let’s do this.” I nodded firmly. Fred let out a cheer. “But you have to be careful! Wesley is smart, and he’s observant. No, don’t give me that look, he might have missed our hints but he can tell when something’s off. You need to be careful he doesn’t realise something is wrong and come to the conclusion you’re a replicant or something.”

“Trust me, I can handle him.” Fred smiled warmly, struck a cute pose, and batted her eyes. She looked _much_ more attractive than I ever had.

“Yeah, I… I think you’ve got this.” I smiled encouragingly.

“Great.” Fred smiled. “So, you just… stay here. Are you thirsty? Do you need some water, or a book or something?”

“I think I’m good.” I quickly ran through a mental checklist: yeah, I’d be fine down here for a couple hours. Wasn’t like it would take her long to do this, I mean, she was _her._

“Okay, so. Ground rules.” Fred turned serious and I nodded, listening attentively. “You don’t leave the room, okay? Then there’ll be two of us walking around, and even though the office is pretty empty, somebody’s gonna notice.”

“Right, makes sense. I don’t leave until you come back.” I nodded. “Umm, rule number two: you talk to as few people as possible besides Wesley. Again, somebody might spot something. Lorne and Angel especially, what with the whole aura-sensing and super-smell thing.”

“Good call.” Fred paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. “Did we miss anything?”

“Just be careful.” I pleaded. “Promise?”

“I promise I’ll be careful.” Fred stuck out her pinky. I stifled a giggle and shook.

This was all so surreal. 

“Trust me, I want this just as much as you do.” Fred smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

“Okay!” I nodded. “Good luck!” I waved goodbye as she slipped out of the room, shooting me a thumbs-up as she closed the door.

I smiled. I definitely got the better end of this bargain. All I had to do was wait. In a room full of fascinating discoveries of the non-archaeological variety. Just stay here for a couple of hours, idly perusing, then she’d be back, we’d merge back together and… Wesley. I failed to keep my smile from widening as I turned back to the pile.

My eyes fell on something on the floor and I spun round. “Fred, you forgot the-” I trailed off. She was gone. I swallowed and picked my way over to the Ferula Gemini, left lying on the floor. She should really have taken this: I wasn’t qualified to look after it!

Still, it was probably better that it was here rather than left out there somewhere. I could look after it. It was fine. This was fine. It couldn’t do any damage just sitting in here. I was going to make sure nothing whatsoever happened. And stay here. In this room. That nobody else had any reason whatsoever to pay a visit to.

\+ + + + + + +

**Wesley**

I tapped my chin thoughtfully, looking between the scroll, the monitor screen (cursed thing), and my pad of lined paper (covered in runes making up a more literal curse). I squinted at the photograph - taken by one of my spies, magnified on the monitor - of the tablet currently resting in the vault of a major agricultural company and grimaced. Either it was the cursed tablet of Nemesis which when used in the correct ritual would bring bountiful harvests for seven years, then ruination for forty-nine thereafter, or it was a gaudy piece of tat some executive had purchased by accident.

And I couldn’t for the life of me tell which because the photo was so damn _grainy._ Get me a rubbing any day, or a sketch, not these blasted photos from tiny cameras, that always ended up either too small to read, or too blurry once you enlarged them. If I squinted, I could make out _most_ of the runes on the thing… enough for a partial translation, but not enough to confirm my suspicions one way or the other. There were too many blurry characters to be certain. What I really needed was to clean up the photograph… if I called Fred, asked her to see if she could work her usual magic and make it vaguely legible, then I could…

I shut down that line of thought and sighed, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my forehead. No, I couldn’t. It was already quarter to eight in the evening on a friday, I couldn’t bother Fred. Drag her out of her beloved lab, with her beloved _Knoxy_ in it, to clean up a photograph for me because I was too incompetent to do my damned job properly. It would be ridiculous, and inconsiderate… and look like a cheap ploy to steal some time with her.

Which it was.

My hand twitched of its own accord towards the bottom drawer in my desk and I groaned. I had a way to read the photo. A way I hated even the idea of. That would bring back painful memories (good memories, old memories, of a time that was _gone_ ). A way that would let Fred go about her day happily without me sticking my unwanted nose in where I wasn’t wanted to bully her into wasting her precious time on me. She could have a nice relaxing evening, go out for dinner, perhaps watch a film… all with him.

I hated my life.

I pulled open the bottom drawer, leaned down, and put my glasses case firmly on the table. I glared at it viciously. They just worked _better_ than my contact lenses did. I could of course have arranged a session with some Wolfram and Hart witch-doctor to have my eyes replaced or magically enhanced, to remove the need for them entirely… but having myself mystically altered seemed a step too far. And would make me a bloody hypocrite besides, after all the flak I’d given Gunn over his augment (which was a lot less frivolous than better eyesight). I popped open the glasses case, retrieved the cloth and began to polish the lenses. Then the frames. The lenses again.

I was just delaying the inevitable. I looked mournfully at the phone: I could still call Fred. She’d be up here in no more than half an hour. She’d knock in that special way of hers, stick her head round the door with a smile, ask me how I was, laugh at my utter technological illiteracy, fix the photo, watch with interest as I translated the tablet, then chide me for making her waste time on a worthless ornament or (hopefully) sit down with me and passionately discuss the best way to heist the tablet. I could pull up the blueprints for the security system, she’d explain the technical workarounds, we’d work out a strategy together, assemble a team, feel that shared _euphoria_ of a fascinating puzzle cracked…

…and then she’d bid me goodnight, wave, and go home to Knox, before complaining to him about how Wesley was being a _beast,_ monopolising her time, and why couldn’t he tell that she didn’t want to see him around anymore?

I wasn’t blind. I’d sensed the change in her demeanour these past 12 days (oh, I had counted them with grim resignation). Too much smiling. The searching look in her wonderfully warm, soft brown eyes. The constant vague allusions to spending time with Knox (such as on her non-archaeological mission from Sunnydale).

I’d overstepped somewhere. She was uncomfortable around me, nervous even. I’d said something or done something (and I wish for the life of me I knew what it was, so I could apologise a thousand times) and reminded her of the way I felt about her… would always feel about her. And she didn’t want to deal with that, with the unwanted affections of someone like me. Time spent with me wasn’t a pleasure: it was a chore. An unsettling experience, although she was far too kind to say it.

Calling her to ask for help would not only be inconsiderate and stupid, it would be cruel. I would never be cruel to her.

I picked up my glasses and made to put them on.

_Rap tap-tap-tap-tap!_

I jolted in my seat, dropping my glasses. That was Fred’s knock. Oh, bloody hell. I fumbled my glasses and almost dropped them on the floor as I went to put them back in the case, catching them at the last second. I swore under my breath, snapped the case shut, and tossed it in the drawer before shutting it. I checked my reflection in the computer screen (cringing inwardly at both the vanity and futility of the gesture, suppressing a self-loathing that only grew more intense as I compulsively neatened my hair) and called out, trying my very best to sound casual. “Hello?”

The door opened somewhere between a crack and halfway, and the most attractive woman in the world stuck her head through, offering me an enchanting smile. God, she couldn’t possibly understand how beautiful she was. That lovely smile, her curtain of lush dark hair, those perfect eyes…

I looked away. How could I do otherwise?

“Hi, Wes!” Fred edged slightly further around the door so that her neck was now also visible. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” I returned the smile on reflex, realising suddenly that both the chairs for visitors were covered in reports and assorted paperwork. I bustled around the desk to gather them up, aware of Fred gently closing the door behind me. I wonder why she’d come here? Perhaps she needed some advice on a case, a pandemic with mystical elements involved or some-such. Maybe something her and Knox had dug out of the SURRP that they wanted me to examine. 

Yes, it would be something like that. Once she’d asked, I could - tentatively, politely, unassumingly - ask if she had time to deal with my photograph request in the interim. I set the assorted mess down in a pile on the half-square-foot of remaining space and returned to my seat.

Fred was still leaning against the door, head tilted to one side, smiling lazily. She looked distinctly amused, eyes sparkling, like she was in on an exceptionally funny joke. Strangely cat-like. 

Very difficult to look away from. Well, more than usual.

“Umm…” I raised an eyebrow. Fred didn’t say anything. “I did _just_ clear those chairs…”

Fred laughed softly, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Noted and appreciated.” Fred sauntered across the room and curled up in one of the chairs, resting her chin on one elbow (itself resting on the arm of the chair). Fred dipped her head, still smiling. “You’re very thoughtful, Wesley. I always liked that about you.”

I blinked, checking her expression or tone for sarcasm. None. Oh. “Oh.” I blinked again, then found myself smiling in response. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you._ ” Fred’s smile widened.

I coughed, covering my mouth with one hand to hide the tiny flush in my cheeks. I was a grown man for heaven’s sake, I shouldn’t be blushing like a schoolboy at a compliment. I should just focus on the tablet while Fred ran through what she needed. As soon as I had… “Did you want tea?” I offered, remembering my basic manners. “Coffee? Something ghastly and full of sugar in a juice box that will keep you from sleeping for eight hours then cause you to collapse?”

“I’m good.” Fred rolled her eyes good-naturedly, then gestured at my scribbles concerning the tablet, smile widening. “I’m not sure exactly what you’re working on here. It’s all _Greek_ to me.” She beamed.

I groaned and shook my head, not entirely fighting off a chuckle. “Why would you do that, Fred?”

“Do what?” Fred raised an eyebrow. “Bring a sense of humour into the room?”

Oh, so she wanted to _dance_. “If that ill-fated, poorly conceived attempt at a pun is the kind of fare that passes for humour in Practical Science… then yes.”

“The things you say.” Fred shook her head.

“The pun wasn’t… irredeemable.” I admitted, twirling my pen. “One might even call it… excusable.”

“Might one?” Fred’s eyes gleamed.

“Not me.” I grinned. “But one. Billions of people around, someone else is bound to find it funny.”

“You are a villain.” Fred shook her head in mock sadness, closing her eyes then opening them again, fixing her face in a dramatic expression of horror. “How do you sleep at night, you dastardly fiend?”

_Alone._ “Nowhere near enough, with these spells to detail.” I gestured at the stacked pile of spells, which I’d fallen behind on thanks to the tablet.

Fred nodded sympathetically: I knew for a fact she’d spent many a late night here, trying to thwart Fries, when she was working Spike’s case, and countless other times. 

I returned my attention to the tablet, waiting for Fred to pluck up the courage to stop buttering me up with false compliments and fun banter. She could finally ask for whatever burning need had driven her - against her wishes - into my company, I could acquiesce and politely request my return favour, she would happily agree, and she could leave my company free from guilt.

And I could stay here. Alone. While she went home with Kn-

I frowned. She hadn’t started talking yet. It had been almost a minute. I glanced back to her. Fred was just sitting in the chair, position unchanged, smiling faintly as she looked at me. I should probably give her an opening to ask for my help. “So,” I drummed my fingers on the edge of the table. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Only the pleasant nature of your own.” Fred replied in the sing-song tone she so rarely employed, absent-mindedly pushing her hair back behind her shoulders. 

I almost did a double take. Because of Fred’s obvious and growing discomfort at my presence, I’d taken to trying to make interaction as painless as possible for her. Avoiding eye contact that lasted for more than a couple of seconds, politely declining the meet-ups she felt obliged to offer me, and - most importantly - not staring at her. Because if I let myself, I could stare at her all day.

And because I’d been avoiding looking a her for more than a second or two at a time, I hadn’t noticed how she was dressed until she’d caught my attention by neatening her hair (which honestly hadn’t looked that messy, although even when it was messy it looked lovely). She was wearing an absolutely delightful sleeveless red blouse which looked from where I was sitting to be rather tight. She’d undone the top couple of buttons - itself slightly unusual, but I suppose it was a Friday night - and had completed the outfit with an attractive skirt. Which was rather short. Given the way she was sitting curled up, this exposed a great deal of her creamy, slender legs.

I felt my cheeks burn and tore my gaze away. She must be right about to head out with Knox. A fun date, dinner someplace nice, perhaps to catch a show. That _had_ to be the reason she’d dressed up so gorgeously tonight, why she looked so radiant, and I honestly had no idea what she’d done with her makeup beyond the captivating lipstick but she seemed to be glowing even more than usual. God, she was beautiful.

And I was delaying her! She didn’t want to be here, in my stuffy office, talking to me. She wanted to be out of here, on the town, enjoying herself, having the time of her life. This wonderful, flattering outfit could not have been less meant for me. God, I wanted to look back to her. But I couldn’t. But I had to. I had to let her get out of here.

“Fred,” I forced a smile to hide my anguish and focused on her eyes - a mistake, considering there was definitely some eyeliner at work playing up her already gorgeous chocolatey eyes - as I spoke. “Was there something specific that you needed from me?”

“Hmm.” Fred’s smile grew wider - I felt a pang at her obvious gladness at the thought of being done - and she sat up a little straighter. “Not at this time.” She beamed at me.

“Oh.” I blinked. “What I mean to say is, was there a work-related matter you wanted my advice on?”

“No.” Fred shook her head. “Not in the slightest.”

“Ah.” But if she didn’t need my help, then why was she-

“I can see the gears turning.” Fred smirked. “So I’m gonna just answer your unspoken question of ‘what are you doing in my office, Fred?’ If that’s alright?” She raised an eyebrow. I nodded, cheeks burning at my rudeness. I’d offended her. I’d acted like I wanted her to conclude our business and get out when nothing could be further from what I wanted, why was I such a-

“I’m here to spend time with you.” The eyebrow stayed raised. Had I misheard her? “Like I’ve been trying to do for the past twelve days.”

“Oh!” I felt relief flood through me. So Fred hadn’t been smiling out of nervousness or awkwardness, she’d just been in a good mood. I _hadn’t_ screwed up our friendship. “I see. Sorry, I was just under the impression that-”

“Have you been wearing your contact lenses?” Fred interrupted me gently. “For the past twelve days?”

I frowned. “Yes?” I said hesitantly. Had I made an error on a piece of work I’d sent down to practical science? Failed to notice a new haircut?

“Huh. Very curious.” Fred stood up slowly and waltzed round to my side of the desk to lean against the corner, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “So you’re just blind then?”

“Pardon?” I checked her hair. Definitely not a haircut. What had I done now? 

“You have been very frustrating.” Fred crossed her arms and pouted at me. Her eyes were very intensely fixed on mine.

“Sorry?” I ventured.

“‘Sorry’ is _really_ not going to cut it.” Fred didn’t waver. Well, it had been worth a shot. I readied myself for an entirely deserved list of complaints. “I have been _trying_ to spend time with you for twelve days, Wesley. I haven’t been subtle.”

“I’m sorry that I-”

Fred lifted one finger and I stopped talking. “I have _hinted_ that you spend time with me over and _over_ , Wesley. I have sought you out to have lunch, lamented a lack of company in the evenings, suggested fun things to do together-” She hadn’t been talking about Knox?

“And all my hard work, all my efforts, have gained me nothing.” Fred sighed, looking at me woefully. “You’ve ignored me. Made me feel _unwanted_.”

“Fred, please,” I swallowed. Oh God, I’d hurt her feelings. I’d been so tied up in myself I’d assumed too much, and I’d hurt her feelings. “I _swear_ I want to spend time with you, but-”

“But what?” 

“I… I thought…” I wilted. “That you didn’t want to spend time with me.”

Fred shook her head slowly, turning away slightly.

I felt my stomach twist. “Fred, I… is there something, anything, I can do to make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to.” Fred mumbled.

“I _do._ ” I reached out intending to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly, stopped inches short, and pulled away. No, I couldn’t indulge myself like that. “Please, let me.”

“Okay.” Fred nodded, standing up. “Then follow me.”

She walked out of the office, going at an impressive clip. I stumbled upright and dashed to catch up with her, halfway across the lobby. “Fred, where are we-”

“Hurry up!” She broke into almost a run and I followed suit. Where were we going?

We turned several corners and ended up in front of one of the supply cupboards, which Fred opened. It was small, a tight fit for me. Still, at least I could stand upright even if there wasn’t much turning space. She held the door open from the side and gestured impatiently. Oh, alright. Inventory, I suppose. I could do some inventory if it lightened her workload.I stepped in and turned back to face her. Why did she want me doing inventory so far from Practical Science? That didn’t make any sense… “What exactly am I-”

Fred was following me into the cupboard, which was very unwise as there was so little space, pulling the door closed behind her. I backed up to stay out of her way as much as possible, but as soon as the door shut she closed the gap between us. I opened my mouth to ask what was happening but the words died on my lips.

Fred collided with me, shoving me playfully back against the wall - the breath knocked out of me by the impact - then pinned me there, one hand coming up to gently stroke my cheek. I was frozen. I couldn’t breathe. My skin tingled under her impossibly soft touch, fingers gliding gently over me. She was staring at me intently, breathing rapidly, she hadn’t looked at me this way since…

Vivid memories surged to the front of my mind, of a stolen few seconds in Angel’s office, of Fred, and me, and-

Surely she wasn’t-

Fred stood up a little straighter.

She couldn’t-

Her hand stopped stroking, and merely cupped my cheek. She leaned in…

She _was_.

Fred didn’t hesitate. Not when she got so close I could feel her warm breath. Not when she deftly shifted her head to keep our noses from colliding. Not as she kissed me. She was soft and warm. Electricity surged through me, but I was paralysed. This couldn’t be happening. I was dreaming. Or I’d gone mad. Fred couldn’t be…

Her arm gently wrapped around my back, squeezing me insistently. I was still stunned.

Fred slowly pulled back. “You didn’t see it.” She murmured, eyes not leaving mine for a moment. “I’ve… I’ve been looking at you in a different light. Couldn’t you tell?”

“So…” I subtly pinched myself. It hurt. I took a mental step backwards. Fred had come to my office, saying she wanted to spend time with me. She’d vented her frustrations about my conduct over the past several weeks, taken me to a broom closet, and kissed me. 

Fred had _kissed_ me.

“You… don’t want me to leave you alone?” I managed to say tentatively.

Fred shook her head firmly, and let out a soft laugh. “What on _Earth_ gave you that impression?”

“You were smiling me too much… acting almost nervous around me, and you were always talking vaguely about wanting to do things and…” I trailed off. I was unbelievably stupid.

Fred giggled. “For such a clever man, you can be very silly.” Then she gave me a look that made my heart beat _even faster_ , and kissed me very intensely. I let my eyes close and kissed her back, revelling in the sensation of her lips against mine, her arms wrapped around me. She pulled away much later (much too soon) and smiled at me wickedly, nails sliding up my chest. “You made this _very_ hard for me.”

“I ahh… really wish I hadn’t.” I mumbled, struggling to retain my powers of speech.

“I had to dress up all nice, do my makeup…” It hit me suddenly that Fred had dressed up so beautifully for _me_ , which set my heart hammering. “… then drag you into a broom cupboard and throw myself at you.” Fred pouted at me. I swallowed. “I think that merits an apology from you, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry.” I managed to whisper.

“Not good enough.” Fred smirked. “Try again.”

I bent down and kissed her softly, moving up hand to twine in her hair, cradling the back of her head. Fred made a contented noise. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Fred leaned back in. “ _Almost._ ”

I really didn’t mind apologising. At length.

I broke away, very out of breath. So was Fred. Both of us were smiling giddily. The question was burning the inside of my throat. I had to ask. “When did this… when did you…” Fred raised an eyebrow. “When did things… change?”

“Everything’s changing all the time.” Fred raised a finger and adopted a wise expression. “‘Always in motion, the future is’.”

I nodded. “Yes, of course you’re right - and quoting Yoda, I might add - but what I mean is, when did you decide that I was… attractive?” I cringed as soon as I said it. God, I sounded like an adolescent…

Fred smiled indulgently. “When you say ‘attractive’ what level are we talking?”

“Level?” I frowned.

“Well, do you want to know when I started subconsciously daydreaming about you infrequently, or when I started to think about you all the time?” Fred asked, smiling innocently.

“You think about me?” I asked, incredulous. I caught up to the second half of the sentence. “All the time?”

“Don’t forget that I daydream.” Fred put her mouth to my ear. “So many pleasant daydreams. And regular dreams. Most of them started out like… this.” She fastened her lips on mine and kissed me greedily. I was happy to reciprocate.

“Wait, what about Knox?” I frowned, hating myself for talking about him when the world had granted me the greatest gift in the history of gifts. “Weren’t you and he-”

“He’s the worst.” Fred shrugged. 

And I thought today couldn’t get better. “Pardon?”

“He’s boring. Not as handsome as you…” Fred’s hands ran over my shoulders and I shivered. “Definitely not as clever as you. Plus, kind of a clingy creep.”

My blood ran very suddenly cold. “What did he do?”

Fred snorted, fixing me with a meaningful glare. “Nothing. He wouldn’t have the guts. He’s just got the opposite of your problem: you refused to see I wanted something, he refused to accept I didn’t. Until _very_ recently.” Fred smirked. It was a glorious sight. With her lipstick smudged, eyeshadow smoky, hair mussed from my hands, lips slightly swollen…

She looked positively _wicked_. I struggled to think of any time she’d looked more attractive, and failed.

This couldn’t really be happening. “Fred, are you sure that-”

“Wesley.” Fred pressed one finger to my lips and I obediently stopped talking. She smiled at me widely. “This is one of those times when you have choices, alright? Nod if you get it.”

I nodded.

“Great.” Fred smiled, leaning in to rub her nose against mine (God, I was so lucky). “Now, if you want, you can keep asking me questions, and I will keep answering your questions, for as long as you like. Or…”

Fred’s other hand began a very slow, measured journey off my shoulders and down my back. “You can stop talking…” Fred murmured. “And we can go back to what we were doing before you started asking questions.” Her other hand stopped its journey.

What exactly had we been-

Oh. We’d been kissing. _Kissing._ Fred had been _kissing_ me and we’d stopped because-

I’d started asking questions. Fred removed her finger from my lips and raised an eyebrow. “No further questions.” I murmured, taking her free hand in mine and pressing a kiss to it.

Fred’s smile widened. “Good call.” Then she pinned me very firmly against the wall, and proceeded to entirely validate my decision to stop talking.

At length.

I lost track of time. Eventually, Fred broke away for more than a second’s break and I gasped for air, breathing heavily. Fred seemed remarkably unperturbed and very amused. “How do you not need… to breathe?” I frowned, dimly registering that her arms were wrapped around me, and mine around her.

“Well,” Fred rested her head on my shoulder, burrowing into my neck. “You know how parents get eyes in the back of their heads?” 

“Yes?” I said hesitantly.

“Well, us Physicists grow special breathing tubes in our ears.” Fred said, voice deadly serious. “That’s how we can talk for so long without stopping. I’m specially adapted for run-on sentences, they don’t just _happen._ ”

I chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re very funny.”

“And?” 

“Exceptionally beautiful.”

“And?”

“The most intelligent, kind, sweet, person it has ever been my unbridled pleasure to know.” That had to be enough. It wasn’t everything of course, but if she was going to ask for more I needed at least a second to collect my-

A gap of less than a second. “And?”

I was momentarily thrown. “Umm…”

Fred pulled back, pouting at me. Oh, God, what had I- “So you only like me for my sense of humour, wit, beauty, mind, and personality?” She huffed, turning away and tossing her hair dramatically. “Typical male.”

“Fred, wait, I…” I trailed off, frowning. “You’re teasing me.”

“How dare you,” Fred turned back to me, ear-splitting grin on her face. “Slander my good name by implying that-”

“I’m not implying anything.” I leaned in to rest my forehead on hers. “I’m accusing you of teasing me for your own personal enjoyment.”

“And what are you going to do about that, precisely?” Fred smirked.

“I’m going to take a stand. Here and now.” I cupped her cheek. “I won’t let you get away with this. If I cave in now, this will become the norm.”

“Oh, you’re right! It would be awful if this became the norm.” Fred squeezed me tight. “Just imagine. We’d tease and flirt at each other all day, sneak into secluded rooms to kiss passionately… you’re right to take a stand. Go ahead. Tell me off. Put a stop to this.”

I blinked, thinking carefully about what she’d said. Hmm. “I’ve changed my mind. Tease away.”

Fred kissed me on the cheek, then fixed me with a look I recognised by now, that sent my heart thumping faster and blood rushing. She leaned in-

“Wait.” I murmured, gently tilting my head out of the way. Fred frowned at me, pouting meaningfully. I fought against the urge to kiss her - which I’d wanted to do for years, had been desperate to do, even when she didn’t look as singularly spectacular as she did tonight - and kissed her cheek. “Let me buy you dinner.”

“Dinner already?” Fred sighed. “But I’m having so much _funnnn._ ”

“You must be hungry.” I squeezed her tenderly. “We’ll go to a place I know you’ll love. Delicious food, and God, the desserts, you’re going to-”

“Wes,” Fred smiled, gently cutting me off. “I would _love_ for us to go out together. Later.”

“Oh.” I fought a cold flood of disappointment.

“I still mean tonight!” Fred rolled her eyes. Relief was a glorious thing. Then she cocked her head and smiled. “Hmm. I have a counter-offer to dinner.”

“Go on.” I wonder what that brilliant mind of hers had come up with?

“I know somewhere where we can get amazing hot cocoa.” Fred smiled. “Just like Grandma used to make. Comfortable furniture, plenty of privacy, charming decor, a selection of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages…”

“That sounds wonderful.” I said, truthfully. Fred always had the best ideas.

“Great.” Fred beamed. “I’ve already got my keys, so we can just head straight back to my place once we’re done here. I’ll whip up some cocoa.”

Wait. When she was… she’d been describing… oh. “You mean-”

Fred interrupted both my sentence and train of thought by kissing me. Her hands slid down my sides, and I felt her knuckles brush my stomach as she took hold of my jumper and began to very insistently pull it upwards. I cooperated, letting her pull it over my head and toss it onto the floor behind her without once breaking the kiss. She began unbuttoning my shirt. 

I wondered briefly if I had died and gone to heaven, then dismissed the idea. I didn’t deserve this good an afterlife.

Another indeterminate amount of time later, Fred broke off the kiss. This time she was the one breathing heavily, eyes running up and down me. I felt goosebumps break out across my chest. “Let me take care of those.” Fred smiled, hands beginning to massage me gently. Maybe this _was_ heaven.

“This does seem rather unfair,” I frowned, deciding it was my turn to joke with her.

“You have complaints?” Fred raised an eyebrow, beautiful eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Just pointing out the inequality.” I teased. “You’ve thrown away my jumpier and unbuttoned my shirt, but this wonderful blouse…” I rubbed the bottom of the offending garment between thumb and forefinger. “… stubbornly remains.”

I was expecting Fred to roll her eyes. Or laugh and shake her head. Or to smack me playfully and warn me to be less cheeky.

Instead she smiled. “Excellent point.” She stepped back the barest inch and reached up, undoing the top button (or rather the top button which was actually done up, which was more like the third button from the top). My throat went dry. I couldn’t look away. “Wesley?” Fred raised an eyebrow, fiddling with the next button.

“You don’t have to. I was only-” I just about managed.

“You’re right, _I_ don’t.” Fred reached out and took my hands, guiding them to the next button. “Because you’re going to do it for me.”

I was rendered utterly speechless. 

“You know how buttons work, right?” Fred smirked at me, wrapping her arms around me again.

I bent down and kissed her softly, moving one hand up to cradle her head. After a few moments I slowly undid the next button with my other hand. Part of me noted a loud hammering noise (probably my heart pounding) which I did my best to ignore completely. Fred pushed closer against me, deepening the kiss and letting out a soft moan, and I embraced her more tightly, delicately undoing-

“Wesley!” I jerked back automatically at the sound of Fred yelling my name and withdrew my hand - urgently, worriedly - as I spun round to position myself between her and the door as the latter swung open, bright light flooding into the broom closet, causing me to wince at its intensity. I’d tell whoever it was to get out of here and-

How had Fred said my name when we’d been kissing like _that_ at the time?  


I focused, eyes adjusting to the light and stared disbelievingly at the open doorway. Standing there, one hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide and shocked, a long stick clutched in her other hand, was _Fred._


	2. Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred and Winifred clash over an issue of ownership.

I hummed thoughtfully to myself, turning over the charred piece of circuitry thoughtfully. It was definitely advanced, like something my department could have churned out yesterday. Except for the burnt and melted components, that was. This was probably from the Initiative, maybe a capacitor for one of their energy guns…

It warranted further study. I set it carefully to one side along with the other useful salvage, double checked the Ferula Gemini was still in its safe area of cleared floorspace _far_ away from anything that could interfere with it, then turned back to the (much reduced!) pile and smiled. I was making great progress! If there were two of me here, I’d already be done! Being able to split myself in two would come in handy in so many situations. I could have one half of me working and one half relaxing, on a rotating schedule. Or we could take it in turns to go on holidays and do other fun stuff…

No. No no no. We shouldn’t. It would be a bad idea to have two of us running around. For lots of reasons. Plus, getting that self-confidence back would be nice. I missed its absence pretty keenly. Although I did get the scientific end of the stick, so to speak, so I couldn’t complain too much. Hmm. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, I suppose.

I checked my watch and pursed my lips thoughtfully. She’d had just over an hour. So, accounting for time spent applying makeup in our office, plus time spent thinking of an excuse to see Wesley, a lot of time spent talking and flirting… it would be a little while yet. Still, I was very patient! I was sure of that.

Which meant she probably wasn’t very patient. Hmm. My ears pricked up at a sound: footsteps! Coming this way! Who was coming here? Oh, it had to be Fred! She’d wrapped up all the necessary prerequisites quicker than I thought - because being impatient she might have skipped the makeup stage or been a little more blunt than I might have been in the conversation (or rather a little blunter than original Fred, since I doubted I could get two words out of my mouth in front of Wesley right now) and come back to join together before we went out for dinner or something. I walked over to the door and fixed a smile on my face, ready to greet myself.

Knox barged into he room, face set in a grimace, fists clenched at his sides, cheeks red. Oh, gosh darn. Not Fred. This was bad. He skidded to a stop in his tracks and stared at me, brow furrowing. He cleared his throat and unclenched his fists, rubbing his forehead. “Weren’t you just-”

“Oh, no.” I shook my head and smiled politely, shrugging. “I’m, um, right here. As you can see.”

“But you said you were-”

“I think you must have mis-heard me.” I studiously looked back to the salvage and began to slowly walk around the pile, putting some distance between me and him. I had to get Knox out of here before Fred came back for me, or I was gonna be in trouble. “Look, like I said earlier, I got this covered, so why don’t you get back to the lab and let me keep an eye on things there?”

Knox glared at me and I wilted under the force of it. Wait a second. How _dare_ he! He did _not_ get to look at me like that, I was his boss, I was Winifred Burkle, I had survived five years in a hell dimension (even if the idea of it now filled me with dread) and prevented an evil god from achieving world domination (using marksmanship I doubted I still had), and I was a darn sight smarter than Knox was! I didn’t have to take this from him!

“Sorry.” Knox spat. “I guess I left because I got the wrong idea from you saying you never wanted to see my face in the lab again.”

“Oh.” I blinked. Gosh darn it, Fred. What had you said…

Actually, I had a pretty good idea what she’d probably said. What I was too nice to say, but had wanted to. Clearly I’d got the manners. I swallowed. “Listen Knox, I… I’m under a lot of pressure right now, I’m sure I didn’t mean it, so why don’t we just forget it happened and let-”

“Like you want to forget anything that ever happened between us?” Knox demanded, stepping towards me. I took a corresponding step backwards, then another three-quarter step just to be safe. “You don’t get to just toy with me like this! To forget things as and when it suits you! To lead me on for a laugh, then tell me you want to be friends, _then_ tell me I’m pathetic and to get the hell out and never come back, before you smile breezily and waltz off!”

Fred had _fired_ him? And called him names? That was unnecessary… “Knox, please, I didn’t-” Wait, hang on… “Wait, if I fired you, why did you come here instead of leaving?”

Knox hesitated. “Uhh…”

“You were going to steal something!” I gasped, clasping one hand over my mouth to contain my gasp. “Oh my God, you were going to steal something, weren’t you! You… you… _rascal!_ ”

“Fred, what is happening with you?” Knox frowned, taking another step closer. I stepped back twice. “You’ve been acting weird ever since you got here, did… did you touch something?”

“No!” I shook my head vigorously. “I didn’t! I promise!”

“You’re not yourself.” Knox’s eyes widened. “We’ve got to get you out of here. We can’t have you tainted by some Sunnydale magic, not now, so close to-.”

“I am _not_ ‘tainted’.” I put my hands on my hips and mustered my best attempt at a glare. I think it came off as rather lacklustre. “Now you… you listen to me, Knox! I am _ordering_ you to get out of here, or-”

He started marching towards me purposefully. I yelped and spun around to run: if I could get around the pile, out of the room, I could just-

I slipped on something that rolled away beneath my foot and fell, temple-first, into the floor with an impossibly-loud, distant-sounding crunch. That could _not_ be a good sign. And neither could the splitting pain in my head. I groaned, rubbing my head gingerly. Gosh darn, that hurt. I snuck a peek at the room above me: no Knox standing over me. Hmm. Fortunate, but odd. I breathed a small sigh of relief and pushed myself upright, swaying slightly but keeping my balance. Not having good balance just seemed petty on the part of the universe, I should just…

There were two Knox’s! Which meant-

I looked down and whimpered: I’d tripped on the Ferula Gemini, which must have spun around and hit Knox, splitting him in two. So much for keeping this a secret. I picked up the Ferula Gemini (not taking that risk again!) and gingerly advanced on the Knox who’d slammed into the wall (the other had ended up half-submerged in the pile, so was probably less hurt) and landed in a sitting position. “Knox?” I crouched down and poked his shoulder gently. “Are you okay? Knox?”

His eyes snapped open - they looked almost feverish! - and darted round for a few seconds before settling on me. “Are you feeling okay?” I smiled sympathetically. “That was quite a knock to the…”

He was smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was a nasty, vicious, wolf-like smile. Aimed at me. Something in my stomach twisted and told me to run. “Umm, I’m just gonna-”

I made it halfway to upright before he lunged, tackling me to the floor. I screamed on instinct and punched him as hard as I could in the face. My fist hurt, bouncing off without doing much damage. A second later, my arms were pinned to the floor on either side of me, Knox pinning my body with his. “Knox, get off me.” I whimpered, cold fear pumping through me. “Please get off me!”

That awful smile of his widened and he licked his lips. I shied away from him, feeling tears start to form in my eyes. Oh God. Oh God, what was happening, what was Knox doing, why would he-

I heard an angry yell from behind me, and shifted my head in time to see Knox 2 bodily tackle Knox 1, both of them rolling across the floor away from me. I sucked in a deep breath and stumbled upright, staring at them and backing away. They were fighting viciously, kicking, punching, _biting_ , and I couldn’t tell which one was which anymore.

“Fred, _RUN!”_ One of them yelled at me, before the other grabbed a lamp and smashed him in the chest with it. 

I needed to get help! I turned and sprinted from the room, holding the Ferula tightly against myself, no more accidents with this thing, _please,_ and turned the corner— 

I slammed into someone and sprawled onto the floor, groaning. Why did I _always_ end up on the floor? “Hey, Fred!” Lorne rubbed his forehead and grinned, standing and dusting himself off. “Weren’t you just-”

“Sorry, gotta go! See you soon!” I kept running. I couldn’t bring Lorne into this, that wasn’t fair. I needed a fighter: Fred or Spike or Angel or Wesley or Charles or Wesley! They’d know what to do. I skidded to a halt in front of the elevator, pounding the up button as hard as I could. I had to get to them straightaway and get help! I had to stop the first Knox from hurting the second one! 

The elevator ascended maddeningly slowly and I paced back and forth, mind whirring without my consent. What had _happened?_ I’d split Knox in two - by accident! - but Knox was pretty similar to me personality-wise, very normal, and splitting me hadn’t created a homicidal copy of myself so-

I stiffened, feeling a horrifying cold sensation overtake me for the latest time today. Oh my God. She was a fighter. She had the skills. She was confident, and her first instinct had been to attack me. And then she’d immediately gone to meet the person who mattered most to _me_ … whereas the homicidal Knox had immediately attacked someone Knox liked, and had only paid any attention to his duplicate when he got in the way, all of which meant-

Fred was homicidal! She _was_ an evil duplicate! I had to warn Wesley, I had to get to him and make sure he was safe, that she wasn’t _torturing him_ like that awful Faith had done, had to stop her before she-

How long had the elevator doors been open?

I dashed out into he lobby, looking straight to Wesley’s office. Oh God, he wasn’t there! I had to get to him! Knox stood a pretty even chance against himself, but there was no way Wesley would be expecting me to attack him, it would be so easy for her to get him to drop his guard and-

I fought back my mounting horror at the thought of what she might do next.

“Fred?” A confused voice called from behind me.

Harmony!!! Thank God!! “Harmony!” I spun around. “Have you seen-” 

“Didn’t you go that way?” Harmony frowned, glancing down one of the corridors.

Perfect! “Yes and no!” I sprinted in that direction. “Thanks Harmony!”

Okay, so, inventory. She had all my survival skills, all my fighting skills, the self-confidence, and a major head start. I had a crippling fear of her, way too much adrenaline, a stick that had caused me nothing but trouble… the Ferula! Maybe she was weak to it, or maybe if we both touched while I was holding the stick we’d merge back together! That would make sense, building a magical link… 

I didn’t have time to think through it all, I had to get to Wesley before it was too late! Right, if I was taking someone to a secluded spot to kill them near here, where would I… the broom closet! She’d lured him in there! I skidded to a stop just in time to hear a weak moan from inside: she was torturing him! I kicked the door with all my strength and it refused to budge. “Wesley!” I yelled out of sheer panic, kicking the door again, and this time it swung open, I hefted the Ferula and readied myself to-

Wesley wasn’t being murdered. He was standing in the middle of the cupboard, shirtless (I failed to keep heat from flooding my cheeks at the sight), both arms thrown out between me and… and Fred. Who was standing behind him. And was _half shirtless,_ and hastily buttoning herself up. Wait, what had…

I wasn’t sure when exactly my free hand had ended up covering my mouth, but it definitely belonged there. Oh my _God_. She’d _lied_ to me! She’d said she was going to come up here and talk to Wesley, then come straight back and get me so we could join back together and spend time with Wesley and…

And she’d left me _alone_ downstairs, so that she could come up here and kiss Wesley in a broom cupboard, take off his shirt, and start _reciprocating!_ She didn’t get to just do that! That was a joint decision, I mean, we were physically identical, she couldn’t just…

“How _dare_ you!” I tore my hand away from my mouth and jabbed my finger at her accusingly. “You… you…”

“ _Fred?!_ ” Wesley looked between me and _her_ , eyes wide as saucers.

“Shush!” I pointed a finger at him and he wilted (I felt a pang of guilt because this wasn’t his fault, but I was really, _really_ cross and he was standing between me and _her_ ). I returned to glowering at the true object of my anger. “You lied to me! You said you’d talk to him and come right back, not… not _this_.”

She marched forwards, tossing her hair over one shoulder, eyes flashing dangerously, and it was my turn to wilt, but I refused to take a step back. “I didn’t tell you because you’re a liability, Winifred!” She huffed, crossing her arms, glaring at me accusingly. “What, I was supposed to just bat my eyes, ask Wes out to dinner, and then join back together with you so you could screw everything up _again?”_

“I did NOT screw anything up!” I yelled, balling my free hand into a fist.

“Oh, yeah?” Fred began counting on her fingers, tone oozing sarcasm. “How about picking the big, strong, comforting hunk of dumb muscle over the smart, sensitive, handsome guy who was actually our equal?”

“That… I didn’t know how he felt!” I protested, feeling a twist of guilt in my stomach. “When I… I had no idea that-”

“The signs were clear as day!” Fred snorted. “But, oh _no._ Heaven forbid we go for someone who might challenge us on an intellectual, cultural level. _Nooo,_ poor baby Winifred needed to feel safe and protected, so she swooned over Angel for three months, then let Gunn put her in a gilded cage like an obedient little songbird, to babble and perform on request!”

“That’s not-”

“And, let’s be realistic here, you’re the one who threw the hissy fit about _Lilah!_ ” Fred rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t handle the fact that after all of us had treated him like trash, kicked Wesley to the curb utterly alone, he’d been seduced. Never mind that things were over between them. Never mind how much he cared about us, how we felt about him, nothing but the purest, most incorruptible pure pureness would do for _precious Winifred_ , heaven forbid we look past a few mistakes, because we _never_ made any of those!”

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. “I… I…”

“And, drumroll, surprise surprise, _our survey says_ …” Fred raised an eyebrow at me. “You screwed up _again!_ This was all going perfectly until you showed up and ruin-”

“Excuse me.” Wesley coughed, moving up to stand gingerly between us (wearing his shirt) eyes - confused as before - flicking back and forth, before they settled on me. I tried to blink away the early signs of tears as subtly as I could, praying Wesley hadn’t seen how pathetic I was. Reduced to tears by my own failures (because she was _right_ , it was my fault, she was the one who knew what she wanted, I was the scared silly part that had been wrong, over and over and over, I was the _weak_ one).

“You’re the real Fred?” Wesley said gently, eyes full of guilt (and resignation? Sadness? Loss?). “Are you-”

“We’re both real.” I confessed quietly. “We got split in two earlier tonight, by something from SURRP.”

“Right. Right. Yes. Okay. Noted. I see. _Right_.” Wesley nodded very slowly. “And what’s happened here is-”

“We agreed that since she was too _chicken_ to tell you how we feel, she’d stay downstairs while I came up to see you.” Fred folded her arms, turning away from me to look at Wesley. “Then I’d make the situation clear, and once I was finished we’d work out a way to re-integrate.”

“We agreed you would _talk. Talk_ to Wesley.” I glared at her, feeling heat flood my cheeks. It wasn’t _fair!_ We were supposed to work together, to be a team! She had not been supposed to… to steal Wesley from me! We both had feelings for him, she couldn’t just… betray me. A hot coil of jealousy snaked through my guts, blood roaring in my ears at the memory of them entwined “You were _not_ supposed to kiss him, fondle him, and start _undressing_ for him, you-”

“Oh, right, _talking_ , of course clever cogs! Why didn’t I try that? Because talking has worked _sooooo_ brilliantly for us up until now, right?” Fred’s eyes flashed. “You’d have talked your way out of anything I said to him, you cowardly-”

“I don’t think you should talk to Fred like that.” Wesley’s eyes snapped to her, suddenly very cold. “You’re acting like a-”

“Someone who _knows_ what I want. Like _you_.” Fred cast a disdainful glance at me, then turned back to Wesley and smiled. “And you didn’t seem to have a problem with how I was acting a minute ago.”

“That’s not rele-”

“Oh, but it is.” Fred folded her arms in a way that had to be strategic. “Don’t let _her_ play the victim. If it wasn’t for her, none of this would have happened! And not just in the sense that we’d have been together years ago, but because if she’d managed to wait patiently in a room for an hour or two, we wouldn’t be doing this now.”

I took a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut. She was wrong. She had to be wrong. It couldn’t all be my fault, it was just her over-confidence meeting my lack of confidence, convincing herself she’d done nothing wrong, it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault, I wasn’t weak or cowardly, I was intelligent, I was strong, I was Winifred Bur-

I was _Winifred._ Not Fred. I wasn’t the one who’d survived Pylea, or saved everyone from the bugs, or defeated Jasmine. I was _Winifred._ I was the little girl with her hair in pigtails, shut in her room with an encyclopaedia because she was too scared to try and make friends after skipping a grade, I wasn’t beautiful, courageous, or strong, I was just-

“Fred?” Wesley’s voice was impossibly soft, carrying an audible depth of concern. I opened my eyes and looked into his deep blue eyes which were full of affection, of concern…

Of everything he didn’t have, _because of me._ Everything I _hadn’t given him,_ until it suited me.

Wesley stepped closer. “Are you-”

“I’m not Fred, I’m Winifred!” I choked and spun around, awful shame burning through me at my failures, at what they’d cost him, cost me, at how _stupid_ I’d been and how _right_ she was. She’d been right to hide this from me, I wold have _ruined_ it and now I’d ruined it anyway! I felt tears sting my eyes and roll down my cheeks as I ran, was barely conscious of the Ferula slipping out of my hands as I turned a corner. I didn’t know where I was running, except _away._ I couldn’t stand to stay there with Wesley and the _better_ version of myself, the version who hadn’t hurt him, the version who’d given him what he so desperately needed, the only version of me he needed, because I was-

A hand caught my arm and I stumbled to a stop on the threshold of the lifts. Wesley spun me back around, and pulled me into a hug. I sobbed, trying to push him away because I didn’t deserve this, but he murmured something inaudible and rubbed my back tenderly. I let out violent, shaking sobs, heaving against him, eyes squeezed shut, tears probably staining his shirt. “I’m sorry.” I choked. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Wesley murmured.

“Liar!” I shook my head. “It’s all my fault. Just let me go, you didn’t have to, I… I know it’s what you want.”

And then Wesley puled away, awful heat burning in my cheeks and ice in my gut at the _speed_ with which he’d rejected me once I’d absolved him of guilt… but he’d only moved to half-arm’s length. Wesley was staring at me, looking utterly mystified. “I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t want me.” I stated the obvious.

“That is definitely not the case.” Wesley shook his head. “Did you miss the last two and a half years?”

“Well technically, I’m barely an _hour_ old so…” I trailed off at the smile on his face, and refocused myself. “You want _Fred_ , not me.”

“You are Fred.” Wesley shook his head and smiled very handsomely.

“No, no I’m not, you don’t get it, I…” I let out a frustrated noise (why did that make him smile _more_ , that didn’t make any sense!). “She’s the beautiful, confident, brave one! I’m the one who hides in caves, and talks too much, and spends too much time thinking about things nobody cares about and… and why are you still smiling?!” 

“You’re as much Fred as she is.” Wesley said softly. “More, in some ways.”

“No, I… I’m not.” I shook my head. “I’m… I’m just…”

“ _You_ are the most wonderful person I’ve ever known. By far the most intelligent. Loveliest, well that goes without saying. More beautiful than words could ever describe…” I froze in place as he gently wiped the tears from my cheeks. Wesley smiled. “As the one here with more than half a brain, take my word for it.”

I huffed a laugh, a smile involuntarily creeping onto my face. He could always make me laugh. Make me smile. Make me happy. “My half a brain’s better than your whole brain.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.” Wesley smiled. “I’m not… you don’t think I’m shallow, do you?”

I shook my head: _Wesley_ , shallow? I’d sooner accuse Marie Curie of being an amateur. 

“Then you can’t think I only like the confident, flashy parts of you?” Wesley questioned gently.

“I guess.”

“Then you accept I also adore your intelligent, thoughtful, adorkable qualities?” He pressed.

“Sure?” I said slowly. Where was he going with-

“Then that means I _must_ adore you.” Wesley murmured. “Clever clogs?”

“I…” Oh, I was so stupid. Of course he did. Fred and me… two sides of a coin, two halves of a whole. Wesley didn’t only desire part of me, he desired _all_ of me. 

So how could I have possibly convinced myself he only wanted her?

“Oh, I… that was really silly of me, huh?” I smiled sheepishly at him.

“I’d be more inclined to say _hasty_.” Wesley shrugged. “But then again, encountering a copy of you that’s a lot more self-confident and ah… aggressive, would make anyone nervous.”

“I think you’d manage just fine.” I smiled, imagining Wesley meeting his double. “You’d just do something British.”

“Something British?” Wesley raised an eyebrow.

“Yes!” I giggled. “You’d brew tea and talk about the weather, or exchange pleasantries and inquire about the other’s health.”

“I’m sure that I have no idea what you mean.” Wesley said, mock loftily, turning his nose up haughtily. 

I giggled louder, stifling them behind one hand.

“Speaking of tea.” Wesley’s voice became serious, but his eyes remained soft. “We should probably find your doppelgänger and get back to my office, shouldn’t we?”

I frowned. “Do I _have_ to see her?”

Wesley laughed. “Well, I’d rather appreciate your help figuring out how to put you two back together.”

I squinted at him one last time to be sure. “I… are you really sure you want to put us back together? I mean, she’s all… confident and flirty and… I mean… you two looked like umm… I mean you seemed to be getting along like a house on fire, is all.”

I was pretty sure the red in Wesley’s cheeks was matched by the blush in mine. “Definitely sure.” Then he grinned. “The last thing I need is you two fighting over me.”

“Oh, really?” I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t like that at all?”

“Well.” Wesley smiled mischievously. “Maybe just a little.”

“Well, I’ll come as long as you _promise_ not to say ‘Calm down ladies, there’s enough of me to go around’.” 

Wesley looked crestfallen for a half-second, then manoeuvred a confident expression back onto his face. “Never even occurred to me. Now, shall we-”

A bolt of light struck Wesley in the chest with a _crack_ , and he hurtled past me to slam into the back wall of the lift, and crumple to the floor. “WESLEY!” I gasped, sprinting into the lift after him, and shaking his shoulders vigorously. He stirred ever so slightly and I let out a shuddering sigh of relief. I whirled around to face his attacker-

My mouth dropped open. 

Fred shrugged and smiled. “Sorry!” I stared at her, flabbergasted, Fred waving cheerily at me as the elevator doors slammed closed on me, the Wesley lying on the lobby floor in front of her groaning weakly. 

\+ + + + + + +

**Wes**

I clutched at my chest and groaned, head swimming. Good Lord, that had stung. 

What exactly had _that_ been? Fred! _Winifred!_

I pushed myself upright, looking around hurriedly. Whoever’d knocked me down had had a clear run at Winifred, I had to make sure she was-

_Fred_ had been the one to shoot me! Not Winifred, the other one, I remembered now, I’d seen her come round the corner into the lobby behind Winifred, listen attentively to what I was saying, then frown, then point that staff at me and then… she’d split me in two! 

I was only half the man I’d been mere seconds ago. Oh my. I vaguely remembered a tugging sensation amidst the pain, the sound of a lift door closing… it must have closed on the other me. There were _two_ of me. That was… strange. That somewhere - in this building no less! - was a near exact replica of me, with the same appearance and memories, varying only in personality and a handful of other skills. If that.

As well as in the strength of our grip on sanity, if the difference between Fred and Winifred was anything to judge by. Although, if the other me did turn out to be sane (I was relatively confident that I was sane, but I suppose I couldn’t be certain at this stage), this could come in quite handy: we could split the work between us to double our time off - quadruple, come to think of it - and bounce ideas off each other while translating, back each other up in combat situations… now I considered it, the benefits really didn’t outweigh the risks. 

I wondered which of the qualities I’d got?

Fred sashayed into my field of vision, head tilted on one side, smiling broadly. The staff was nowhere to be seen. “Hey, there.” She purred.

I felt my pulse quicken and throat go very dry, any introspection banished from my mind by that one look. “Hello.” Why had she shot me? What was she planning? What possible reason could there be for-

The next thing I know, she was pushing me gently backwards until I was lying on the floor, and then she was on top of me, kissing me passionately, moulding herself to me. I was too startled to do anything but kiss her back. She wrapped her arm around the back of my head and I followed her lead, more out of sheer instinct than anything else.

She abruptly pulled away and grabbed my hand, dragging me to my feet. I blinked, feeling very dazed. “Umm…”

“C’mon!” Fred marched towards my office, pulling me insistently along in her wake - her hands were so soft and warm - then pushing me playfully into the middle of the room, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it - triggering a cascade of very pleasant memories from the last time we’d been in this room - before she smiled like a cat.

I swallowed, feeling very much like a small animal being toyed with by a lioness. 

“Alone at last.” Fred’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips and I whimpered. Then I frowned.

“We weren’t alone out there?” I said slowly. When we’d been-

“Harmony was there, but she had headphones in. Does it all the time when Angel’s not around.” Fred shrugged in an exaggerated manner. I couldn’t help but notice that not all of the buttons on her blouse had been done up again after the supply closet, while a separate part of me wondered how loud music would have to be played through headphones to prevent a vampire from hearing a loud fight.

I refocused, swallowing. I needed answers. But I had to tread carefully, Fred - this version of her - appeared rather… well… _temperamental_. “You shot me.” I declared hesitantly.

“I did.” Fred pouted, walking forwards and caressing a slightly charred section of my lower shirt deliberately. “Want me to kiss it better?”

I quashed the urge to scream ‘yes’. Just. “Ah, actually, I would prefer it if you would, I mean, _explain_ why you decided to, you know… shoot me.”

“You were gonna put me and Winifred back together.” Fred pouted, walking forwards and forcing me to back up until I was up against my desk. She walked until we were practically touching. “When I’m having so much _fun_ without her in the back of my head, nagging me, holding me back, and being a complete spoilsport.”

“But you’re two halves of one person!” I insisted. “You can’t stay separate forever, that would be-”

“I never said anything about _forever_.” Fred murmured, moving her head forward to rub her nose against mine. “Winifred deals in forevers. I just want to have some fun _now_.”

“Ah. And when you say fun, you mean-”

Fred cut me off by seizing me by the shoulders and pushing me into the nearest chair, clambering on top of me, and kissing me. 

God, but she knew how to kiss. I fought to keep up with her, struggled to mentally process the fact that _Fred_ , the loveliest woman on Earth, had feelings for me, had had them for weeks, and I’d been utterly oblivious. This couldn’t really be happening, I rationalised, as she began unbuttoning my shirt.

I was dreaming. Or I’d finally gone insane. Or both. Any of those things was more likely than beautiful, funny, clever, courageous, sweet, brilliant Fred deciding _I_ was somehow desirable. When you tossed in the fact that there were suddenly two of her, who’d apparently colluded to seduce me and now appeared to be on less than the best of terms, and that the more sensuous one had kidnapped me for physical purposes…

Dreaming sounded very, _very_ likely.

Fred broke off suddenly, brow furrowing as she frowned at me. She sat back slightly. “Are you alright?” She twirled one strand of hair around her finger, studying me intently. She was mesmerising.

“Yes, I, I think so.” I nodded, then froze. What had I do wrong? I must have done something wrong for her to question me, what had I done and what was she going to do? Would she shoot me again? “At least, I’m reasonably certain that I’m most likely-”

“Aww.” Fred’s frown deepened. “You’re the wrong one.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Repeatedly. By an Old One. Then had my heart ripped out and eaten by the aforementioned lioness. I turned my head away, cheeks going scarlet, and began to scramble up out of her way.

“Oh, no, no, no! Not like that sweetie!” Fred shook her head, not letting me move, looking at me… affectionately? “I’m _so sorry_ , that came out wrong!” She looked genuinely distressed.

“How… how was that _meant_ to come out?” I frowned, fighting a strong urge to rub my eyes.

“I just meant…” Fred sighed, gently stroking my cheek (it _did_ work wonders to soothe the crushing feeling of rejection), then smiled at me encouragingly. “Look, you’re incredibly handsome. You’re very intelligent - maybe even smarter than _me_ , although I recommend not trying your luck against Winifred - and incredibly sweet which really is wonderful… but I think you’re much more _Winifred’s_ type. And she’s more yours than I am, right?” Handsome? Intelligent?

… Sweet? Fred thought I was sweet and… and she was asking me to express a preference between her and Winifred. Wonderful, dreamy, intelligent, funny, sensitive, cute, Winifred who would never have shot me, or said I was the _wrong_ Wesley…

I had a feeling telling Fred any of that could not go well for me. “I… I couldn’t possibly express…”It appeared my other self had picked up the ability to lie or deflect easily. Now that I had time to think (In my defence, Fred had been doing a very good job distracting me until now), I felt a severe burst of jealousy for my counterpart. He would have stirred to consciousness in a lift with Winifred, who _hadn’t_ shot him, who’d be concerned for him, making sure he was alright, chatting to him comfortingly, rather than dragging him around, insulting him and-

“Wes, whenever you look at me, you look like a rabbit in the headlights.” Fred smiled indulgently and shook her head. I hung my head. “I don’t mind that you prefer her. I think the Wesley Winifred has with her is probably much more my type. So! Let’s make everyone happy and go find them!” Fred beamed, eyes lit up with energy and purpose.

“Sounds… good?” I managed to get out, rubbing the back of my neck and swallowing, acutely aware of Fred’s weight resting on me, her hair falling down over my chest, how close her mouth still was-

“Good boy.” Fred smiled and nodded, standing up and neatening her hair. “Button up your shirt and make yourself presentable. Winifred hates messy.”

“Right.” I nodded and obeyed. “Should I brush my hair?”

“Not that neat, we like messy hair. Within reason.” I nodded, trying to process the flood of information and file it away for later. Fred pursed her lips and looked me up and down, a confident smile playing on her lips. She clapped her hands happily and lunged forward for a brief, but intoxicating, kiss.

“Yeah.” She grinned. “You’ll make Winifred weak in the knees. Trust me.”

Memories rushed to the forefront of my mind: the sound of Winifred giggling at my Britishness, her brief tangent about being barely an hour old, the way she’d _smiled_ when I’d convinced her I wasn’t only interested in her slightly terrifying alter ego. 

I couldn’t wait to see her again.

“Wipe the lipstick off.” Fred advised. I stiffened and followed suit, mentally kicking myself. “And don’t tell her I kissed you. She’d take exception to that.” 

Oh, God.

\+ + + + + + +

**Winifred**

The elevator doors pinged open again behind me, but I barely noticed. I had no idea what floor we were on. “Wesley?” I slightly adjusted his position (sitting on the floor of the elevator, leaning back against the wall) to a more comfortable angle, trying very hard not to focus on the muscles I could feel beneath his shoulders as I did so. I flushed even so.

God, this was like being an awkward teenager again. I hated it.

Wesley let out a soft groan and stirred slightly, one eye cracking open. I let out a huge sigh of relief and smiled broadly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Hi, Wesley. How are you feeling?”

“Strange.” He frowned, one hand experimentally moving to touch his chest (where he’d been _shot_ ) before withdrawing it with a wince.

“That gets less sore very quickly, don’t worry.” I explained. “Trust me, I remember.”

“So the blast that hit me is what split you in two?” He gripped the handrail tightly with his free hand and slowly stood up, dusting himself off.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Splitting me in two because I was about to put you two back together.” Wesley smiled, in a very amused kind of way. “My, that was rather enterprising of her… I take it that was _her,_ and you’re-”

“The one who didn’t attack you. Yep. Winifred. Hi.” I waved.

“Splendid. The pleasure is all mine, Winifred.” Wesley inclined his head and smiled politely. I realised I was still holding his hand and quickly let go, cheeks burning.

I had to focus on something else. “Are you sure you’re good to be standing up?” I murmured, standing on tiptoes and pushing his head down to face the floor. Wesley’s smile widened but he complied. I examined his head critically, fingers gently probing across his scalp. No bumps, no blood. He seemed fine. I let go of his head and refocused on the scorched shirt he was wearing: the fabric itself showed signs of scorching, but what I could see underneath was unblemished… and smooth… very chiselled, and-

Focus. “So, this whole, halves thing…” How was I supposed to ask him tactfully which parts of Wesley he got? “Sorry, I don’t know how to do this politely. Which bits of Wesley did you get? I’m sure she could have asked this more tactfully, but I mean, on the bright side I didn’t shoot you?” I smiled hopefully.

Wesley’s answering smile was broad and I breathed an internal sigh of relief. “No offence taken.” He frowned and stretched out his arms, intense eyes flicking around our surroundings. “I feel rather… energised. Focused, but also patient.”

“How’s your ancient Sumerian?” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, looking him up and down. His posture was very confident… he was standing like an acrobat, or a matador. 

Wesley chuckled and opened his mouth as if to speak, then frowned. It remained open a second before he closed it and his frown deepened. “Extremely poor.” I nodded sympathetically. “That is… quite distressing. To just forget something I’ve had at my fingertips for so long…”

“You’re still you.” I shrugged and smiled, feeling a small unplaceable stab of disappointment. Why did I feel that? “So maybe your other half got the ancient languages. Do you think you could… I don’t know… disassemble, clean, and re-assemble one of your pistols in less than two minutes?”

Wesley brightened. “Yes, I rather think I could. And I remember my fighting style…” He nodded slowly. “Yes. So I have the fighting skills, some of the street skills-”

“You seem to have the confidence too, if that helps.” I supplied. “If me and her are the benchmark, you seem closer to how she was at first than me. Although I’m grateful you didn’t rush me and pin me to a wall.”

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “She rushed you and pinned you to a wall?”

“We both thought the other was a demonic replica. I chose to run.” I pouted. “She chose to bodyslam me into a wall, then taunt me about my lack of combat skills.”

Wesley did a pretty impressive job of suppressing a chuckle, but I caught the sparkle in his eyes.

Unless that had always been there when he looked at me? I swallowed.

“Thank you, Winifred.” Wesley smiled gratefully. “For helping me up, and talking me through… this.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” I smiled back. “I, err, like chocolate. Not so much flowers. Maybe she likes flowers and not chocolate or… just chocolate, please.”

“Duly noted.” Wesley failed to contain his chuckle this time.

I’d pinned down that disappointed feeling I’d had: Fred had got _my_ Wesley! 

I mean, he obviously wasn’t _mine_ but… I mean, of the two, this was clearly her one! He was confident, combat-capable, possessed of social skills far exceeding mine… which meant that upstairs, there was another Wesley. 

One who was bookish. More intelligent. Probably a little shy. Very cute. Earnest, kind, sweet… the one who Fred had grabbed. I felt envy course through me: he was my dream guy, _my_ Wesley, all the parts of him that I _adored_ , and Fred was probably in the middle of undress-

\+ + + + + + +

**Wesley**

I definitely felt very strange. Alert, yet relaxed. Invigorated and with heightened reflexes, but not adrenaline-fuelled or impulsive. Incredibly focussed, but very patient. How interesting. Throw in the automatic, reflexive feeling that I _should_ know Sumerian and dozens of other languages, the memory of using those languages countless times, but a complete inability to actually call up much relevant information or expertise on them… like having vast gaps in my memory. Troubling. Similar gaps existed in my arcane knowledge, and doubtless in several other fields: I suppose that meant my other self had all that knowledge. Fascinating.

“Well.” I dusted myself off and rolled my shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness. No sense wasting time. Not when I knew what I wanted to do. “It seems to me that we should go and find our other selves, work out a compromise. Make sure nobody else gets shot, put ourselves back together and-”

I felt a tug on my upper arm and turned back to face Winifred, hovering behind me, looking distinctly guilty. Winifred was incredibly sweet. Her compassionate demeanour, the concern for my wellbeing, her shy self-conscious manner, how _expressive_ and honest she was… not to mention that impossibly powerful mind, apparently even quicker than before the split. She was beyond adorable.

“Sorry.” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling guilty. I absolutely shouldn’t run ramshod over Winifred like that. It was ungentlemanly. “I got ahead of myself. What is it?” What fascinating insight had Winifred uncovered, or what could it be she was about to ask for? Whatever it was, it would be no trouble to provide it. She deserved only the best, all good things. Whatever she wanted.

“Can we go help Knox first?” She said slowly, looking at her feet. “Last I saw him, he was in trouble. That’s actually why I came upstairs, to get Fred’s help. Then I found you two and got… sidetracked.”

Helping Knox. Oh, simply marvellous. I bit down on my displeasure, then nodded and smiled. “For you, my dear, anything.” Winifred went bright pink. “Lead the way.”

“Will do. I just… Practical Science.” Winifred thumbed the button for that specific floor and the lift began its descent.

“What exactly happened with Knox?” I rolled up my sleeves slightly, bending down to pat my shoe experimentally: perfect, the small pistol I’d stashed for emergencies was still there. “What assistance will I be required to render? Hopefully not the kiss of life?”

“I hope not!” Winifred began twining some chocolate-brown curls around one finger nervously. “I’m not exactly sure what happened… I mean, I know it was my fault…”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.” I mused. Winifred wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone. Winifred mumbled something unintelligible, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a renewed interest in her feet. “Pardon?” I asked, once it was clear nothing more was forthcoming.

The lift pinged open and I gestured for Winifred to go first. She smiled - did she have any idea how lovely her smile was? - and began walking. I moved to beside her and we started walking towards practical science. I kept an eye out for any crazed scientists and nodded meaningfully to Winifred.

She nodded and continued. “I tripped over the Ferula Gemini - the magic stick - which accidentally shot him. Then, obviously there were two of him, so I walked over to the one who looked more injured and he… he…” 

Winifred sounded almost choked. I lightly squeezed her shoulder. “You’re alright.” I murmured, privately devising a thousand ways to make Knox suffer for whatever he’d done to her. “I’m here, I’ll keep you safe. Just… tell me what happened. If you can, that is.”

“I can.” Winifred swallowed, making eye contact (and it was wrong to notice at a time like this, but Winifred had such wonderfully warm, soft eyes, much more so than her counterpart’s). “I went over to see if he was alright and he just… _attacked._ He didn’t say anything, he just tackled me and… and I _tried_ , I tried to fight him off but I’m so weak that I couldn’t, and he had me pinned on the floor… I felt so _helpless_ …”

This called for a hug. I swept Winifred into my arms - she made a surprised noise in response - and gently rocked her for a few moments. “It’s okay, it's not your fault.” I murmured, privately eliminating a simple shot to the head as adequate treatment for Knox. No, a gut wound would be more appropriate. It could take him days to expire, if I aimed just right…

“I’m alright, really!” Winifred disentangled herself, looking away again. “I was only there for a second or two. The other Knox, he… he _rushed_ the first one and tackled him away, and then they were fighting _viciously._ It looked like they were trying to kill each other.”

“Fascinating.” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “Like he was at war with himself?”

“Yeah!” Winifred nodded eagerly. “That’s what I was thinking!”

“I hate to ask you this,” I paused for a moment. This would really be a better question to ask the Fred upstairs, or the combined whole: I didn’t want to heap anything on Winifred. But it was important to know _now_ what I was dealing with. “Can you think of any reason - any at all - that Knox might want to hurt you? Even subconsciously. It… it isn’t _necessarily_ the case that the part of Knox which attacked you was the dominant part.” I felt a bitter taste in my mouth as I partially defended Knox. That definitely felt wrong. Perhaps charity was the domain of my other half.

Frankly, he was welcome to it.

“I… I guess there’s two?” Winifred frowned and held up one finger. I listened attentively. “Right before he came back to SURRP, Fred had run into him. And she apparently had some… choice words for him. She did not pull punches from the sounds of it. And she apparently… ah… fired him. And told him she didn’t want to see his pathetic face in the lab ever again. Or something.” 

Oh, my. Now _that_ would have been a sight to behold. I tamped down on the broad smile threatening to break out at this entirely inappropriate time: I hadn’t thought Fred seemed one to pull punches, but still… Fred had come into existence, then within the space of an hour had fired Knox, and seduced me. If we operated on the theory that Fred was the half of original Fred who _knew_ what she wanted… well, that boded very well indeed. But I was getting sidetracked. “I doubt that incident alone would be enough to induce any significant part of him to want to murder you. Unless there were other issues at play.” Winifred nodded reluctantly. I felt a spike of guilt at pushing her to tell me more, but if I was going to ensure her safety I needed her to tell me everything. “Winifred… you mentioned two reasons? I imagine the second has to do with why Fred fired him and called him pathetic…” Besides the fact he was pathetic, of course. Fred 1.0 had never really bought into that particular line of reasoning.

“Well… I mean… Knox and me… we used to flirt. At work.” Winifred flushed slightly, returning to her pastime of studying her shoes. “And, well, I… I agreed to go on a date with him. A while ago. Just one! And it… I realised he wasn’t for me. At all. Not even a little bit. So I tried to make that really, _really_ , clear to him but he really, _really_ , wasn’t listening, y’know? Fred 1.0 had a very long, very candid conversation about it with him which didn’t work at all, I mean he just kept _trying_ _harder_ , it was impossible! And awkward. So given what I know now, I suppose it might be possible that Knox became obsessed with me. Her, rather.”

Constant pursuit, unwillingness to accept a flirtation was over, followed by constant hounding and increasing effort to prevent things from ending. Yes, that did sound rather like obsessive stalker behaviour. Tendencies apparently kept in place by Knox’s more reasonable half, so once he was split… the obsessive part attacked, and the part that was a relatively decent human being tried to stop him.

“Winifred, this is important. Last question, I promise. Was there ever _any_ indication that the original Knox intended to hurt you in any way whatsoever? Even little things. I have to determine if we could treat the recombined Knox as safe.”

Winifred chewed her lip, “I mean… not until right before I split him. He was acting really weird. He ranted about me leading him on-” As if Fred was capable of doing something so cruel. “- and then he started talking about how he couldn’t let me be ‘tainted’ by Sunnydale magic, not now and then he started marching towards me with this look in his eyes… and that’s when I tripped on the Ferula and split him.”

“I see.” I nodded, stooping down to withdraw my pistol from my shoe, keeping the safety on for now. I straightened back up.

“You had a gun in your shoe?” Winifred frowned.

“Yes. For emergencies and parties only.”

That bought me a small smile, swiftly put away. “That really doesn’t seem safe. Or legal. But mostly safe.”

“The safety’s on at all times, don’t worry.” I explained.

“You’re… you’re not gonna hurt him, are you?” Winifred looked at me nervously. “I mean, I know that he… but he’s my friend. It might have just been the Ferula, Lord knows Fred doesn’t act anything like I normally would when I’m all put together.”

I think Winifred was overestimating the divergent nature of Fred 1.0 and Fred’s personalities. Though I suppose it was natural to see more of yourself in the combined whole. Especially easy for Winifred to do so, since Fred 1.0’s most immediately identifiable characteristics (intellect and compassion) seemed concentrated in her. In reality, I could think of many instances when Fred had seemed to be in the driving seat: most notably the incident with Seidel. Although Winifred had her share of moments in the spotlight: in fact, she seemed remarkably similar to the teenage Fred I’d encountered during Lorne’s spell… but I digress.

“I’m not going to hurt him, don’t worry.” I smiled reassuringly. “In fact, this reduces the probability of me needing to hurt him: I can simply hold him at gunpoint to have him back down, rather than potentially having to beat his more violent half into submission.”

“Oh!” Winifred nodded vigorously. “That makes sense! Right. Sorry, I’m uh… not good at this.”

Speaking of… “Do you think you could recall any of the combat techniques you’ve learned, or did Fred get all of them?”

“I’m pretty sure all of them.” Winifred pouted. “I held my own in a hell dimension against monsters for five years. Sure, I mostly ran or hid from them, but still! Now I can’t even hold my own against a rake of a scientist who’s never done a day of combat training in his life. The wimp completely crushed me.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at Knox’s new nickname. I liked that one. I’d be sure to inform him of his new designation when I saw him. Then perhaps take a photo of his reaction… no, too much. Winifred would disapprove, which meant that eventually recombined Fred was likely to. “Winifred.” I spoke slowly and carefully. I had to approach this subject like it was a skittish deer. “Considering your lack of combat skills, do you think it might be best if you were… absent from any potential struggles down here?”

“Huh?” Less than a second later she was shaking her head and folding her arms. “No, I need to be here! Maybe I can talk him down or-”

“Or maybe seeing you will drive him mad with rage and force me to hurt him to subdue him.” I pointed out. “It might be easier to subdue him if you’re not here. And I wager you’ll be a lot safer. Plus, you can be of more use tracking down our other selves. Some detective work, make sure they’re not getting into trouble. Then you can start working on a way to undo the effects of the Ferula?”

Winifred chewed her lip, then sighed and nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

“It happens from time to time. Not often, I grant you…” Winifred giggled so I pressed on. “Would you allow me to keep an eye on you? Just until you’re back to the lifts?”

“Oh. Sure.”

It was a quick journey. Back around a couple of corners. As Winifred was entering the lift, I caught her arm. “Find the Ferula, don’t let anyone else get split. Use your genius to find a way to put us back together. And see if you can find Gunn, Lorne, or our other selves. All hands on deck.”

“What about Angel?” Winifred asked, brow furrowing.

“He’s out for the night, hunting some demon with nine mouths, it’s called a…” My jaw worked silently. Damn knowledge gaps, showing me up in front of Winifred.

“Oh, okay.” Winifred nodded, sparing me the embarrassment of admitting I didn’t know. I was grateful for that. “Sorry.”

“You _never_ have anything to be sorry for.” I smiled, pushing the close doors button. “Happy hunting.”

I turned tail and ran back to the lab, readying myself. Two Knox’s, at least one of them evil and fixated on hurting Fred. I felt my blood boil momentarily, then took a breath and calmed myself. Getting angry wouldn’t help me catch him. I could leave anger for after I’d caught him. Knowing Knox, he went straight here looking for Fred, or for a weapon of some kind. A prototype. Still, this was ‘the wimp’ I was dealing with. He shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.

I pushed open the door to the lab, gun held ready: inside were four security personnel, Lorne, two versions of Knox - both handcuffed, and each restrained by two of the aforementioned personnel at distance from each other - and Gunn. Lorne was holding an ice-pack to the side of his head and glaring at one of the Knox’s venomously. Gunn was likewise giving him the stinkeye.

“Gunn. Lorne.” I announced my presence, walking up to them. That was certainly easy. “Fred told me about Knox. What’s the situation?”

“It’s a code double asshole.” Lorne groaned, shifting the icepack. “I ran into Fred downstairs - literally - then she dusted herself off and kept going. Twenty seconds later, this wonderfully articulate fellow-” He gestured to the Knox on the left, who was cradling his arm and developing a lovely purple bruise on his face to jive with the variety of cuts already present there. “- slammed me into the wall, punched my throat to keep me from singing, and demanded I tell him where Fred was. Then his twin-” The other Knox - potentially the more benevolent or at least less crazed one - sported two shining black eyes, a swollen lip, and was holding his leg very awkwardly. “- tackled us both and they started fighting. I took some hits trying to crawl away, don’t know from which one. Or both. Lucky for me, Super-Lawyer showed up with some security staff to save my green ass.”

“Appreciated, Gunn.” I nodded at him. “Lorne, what reading are you getting from them?”

“Imagine listening to a record, except it’s scratchy and you can barely hear half the music. That’s what I get from each of them. The other half of this guy’s tune-” Lorne pointed at Knox 1. “Is pure screaming loco, mixed with a dash of bloodthirstiness and fanaticism. And this one’s… I dunno, kind of like what bread would sound like if it could sing? The dullest music you can imagine.”

“You know why there’s two of them?” Charles raised an eyebrow.

“A mishap with an artefact from Sunnydale, Fred and I are handling it. These two are the only ones you need to concern yourself with.” I stepped up to Knox 1 and looked him squarely in the eye. My, those were definitely the eyes of a madman. “Why did you hurt Fred?”

I heard Lorne and Charles stiffen up. “He hurt Fred?”

“Tried to, she’s fine. Slightly shaken.” I pushed the gun into his stomach. “You can talk, or I can blow a hole in your stomach. The doctors here will be able to keep you alive for weeks, I believe. Perhaps months. No painkillers, of course. And eventually you’ll talk.” 

“Don’t bother asking him, he won’t tell you anything.” Knox 2 cut in. One guard made to cover his mouth but I lifted a finger and stepped up to him.

“And why’s that?” I asked, using a slightly more polite tone. Not quite _polite._ This was still Knox, after all. But I kept the venom out of my voice and gaze.

“Because he’s a crazy murderous bastard.” Knox 2 stated, glaring hatefully at his doppelgänger. “He’s been planning to kill Fred. For months. Almost since he met her.”

I blinked twice. You could hear a pin drop. “Tell me everything.” I said softly. “And if I suspect, for one second, that you’re lying to me, you’ll regret you were ever created.”

“Okay, right, before I was split into me and him, I was the leader of a cult. Worshipping this long-dead demon, Illyria-”

“YOU DARE SPEAK THE NAME TO THESE UNBELIEVERS!” Knox 1 howled, throwing himself against his captors. “ILLYRIA IS NOT A DEMON, IT IS AN OLD ONE! PERFECTION INCARNATE, HOW DARE YOU-”

I heard him being gagged behind me. “Continue.” I instructed.

“So, as I was saying.” Knox 2 cleared his throat. “He’s kind of obsessed with Fred. In a seriously unhealthy way. And Illyria’s resurrection requires a human body. He was planning to get the sarcophagus into the country, then arrange for it to be sent here so Fred would touch it and become infected with Illyria’s essence. And it wouldn’t be an ordinary possession, Fred would…”

Knox swallowed and took a deep breath, then looked me in the eye. “She’d be destroyed. Body and soul. Nothing left but Illyria. She’d have died in agony and I… I couldn’t let that happen…” Tears welled in his eyes. “I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that he was evil and that I wasn’t, then I saw him attacking her so I… I just attacked him without thinking and told Fred to _run._ ”

His eyes lit up. “You said she was safe! Is she safe, is she okay?”

“She’s absolutely fine.” I scrutinised him carefully, seeing the relief rush onto his face. He wasn’t lying. 

Which meant he’d been planning to kill Fred almost since they’d first met. Not some lover scorned. A psychopath, who’d been planning to kill her even while they were… back when she thought of him as a…

It was with a truly great effort that I resisted shooting Knox 1 between the eyes then and there, promise to Winifred be damned. “Any rebuttal?” I turned to Knox 1, letting him see the full depth of anger and hatred in my eyes. 

The guard removed the gag. Knox 1 swallowed. “That… that is a lie. He… err… he just… wants attention?”

“I can prove it!” Knox 2 piped up again. “Check that filing cabinet. There’s a cellphone hidden in there. A burner. It contains the numbers, names, and addresses of every member of the cult. Plus, I can tell you how he planned to get the sarcophagus into the country. Gunn,” He looked over to him. Gunn - who looked to be wrestling against the same impulse to kill him that I was feeling - stared back evenly. “Your knowledge of the law. It’s fading, right? You’re forgetting things?”

“How did you…” Gunn trailed off, and just nodded. 

“You, check the filing cabinet for that cellphone.” I instructed one of the men holding Knox 2, then turned back to Knox 2. “Continue.”

“On that cellphone is Dr Sparrow’s number. He’s in on it. He made your alterations temporary instead of permanent, without telling the Partners. He was planning on you coming back to get your knowledge restored: then he’d demand you work some legal magic to get an ‘antique’ through customs. That antique would be Illyria’s sarcophagus, which would end up on special delivery right to this lab.”

“Prove it and sing.” I instructed him. Knox nodded and sang the first few lines of ‘Jessie’s Girl’. I turned to Lorne, who looked ready to beat both of them to death with his ice pack.

“He’s telling the truth.” Lorne growled softly. “And he doesn’t seem evil, but… he could be using Calendula.”

“So he could be.” I nodded. I flipped open the cellphone handed to me by the guard and opened the contacts. “Here’s Dr Sparrow. Lots of calls. Emails…” I scanned a few, and felt my blood boiling once again.

They’d been arguing about who to use as Illyria’s host. Sparrow had repeatedly argued for grabbing somebody off the street, who wouldn’t be missed. No risk of interference from Angel. Knox’s response? ‘You think I want our god hatched out of some _schmuck?_ No. It has to be Fred. It _will_ be Fred.’

I passed the cellphone to Gunn. His expression became thunderous, then he passed it to Lorne. “I think you should start gathering security.” I spoke slowly. “Find the location of everyone on that phone, and bring them in. Then prepare all of them for interrogation, followed by exile to the nastiest hell dimension we have on record. Making sure none of them know how to open portals.”

“I can handle that.” Gunn nodded. “What do we do with these two?”

“Lock them up. Separately.” I paused. “We’ll give it twenty four hours for any Calendula used to wear off, then check this one again. If he’s telling the truth and he really is safe, Fred and I will figure out a way to… dispose of his ill-mannered counterpart without hurting him.”

“Sounds good.” Knox 2 nodded eagerly. “Thank you. I knew you’d help.”

“Don’t push your luck.” I warned him, then looked back to Gunn and Lorne. “I have to find Fred. May I?”

“Do it. I’ll handle everything.” Gunn’s knuckles whitened on the phone. “I’ll handle _all of them._ ”

“Good man.” I nodded and passed him my gun. “Just in case.”

I walked as fast as I could away from them all, and exited the lab, breathing heavily. I spun around and punched the wall over and over, until my knuckles were nearly bleeding. I panted for air, clenching both my fists, and trying to calm myself. That _son of a bitch._ I’d never trusted him, not for a second. And if not for this mess with the Ferula, we might not have… Fred could have…

It was alright. Fred was safe. At least from him. I just needed to make sure her two halves didn’t end up killing each other. All of which meant…

“Time to find Fred.” I murmured, then allowed myself a smile as I began walking towards the lifts. “The fiery one.'"


	3. Birds of a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Knox out of the way, the four heroes are reunited - but remain almost as divided as ever.

**Wes**

“You look very nervous.” Fred remarked from beside me.

“Really? I can’t imagine why.” I muttered under my breath.

Fred apparently picked up on it, because she let out a snort of laughter. “Just try to relax, okay? Trust me, Winifred is freaking out just as much as you. Probably more.”

How was that supposed to help? Now I felt a sudden resurgence of my desire to rush out and find her, to make sure she was alright and not panicking, because it had been quite a while and they weren’t here yet! “Fred,” I swallowed, preparing to beat a swift retreat. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to just stand in the lobby and wait for them? I mean… who knows what-”

“They’ll come to us, don’t worry.” Fred’s smile became a smirk. “Winifred won’t want to leave _you_ in my untrustworthy hands a second longer than she has to. Besides, who knows where they ended up? The only logical place to meet is here, where they know we last were. Right?”

“Right.” I mumbled.

I was sure my other self would have been able to make a compelling case for rushing out to look for her. He could probably make a grand speech, produce a detailed tactical analysis, scale the outside of the building, then fight his way through a legion of Wolfram and Hart commandos if he had to. I… did not feel capable of doing any of those things. I clasped my hands behind my back to tamp down on my fidgeting and resisted the urge to pace.

At long last, the elevator let out a soft _ping_. I was vividly reminded of my first day working for Wolfram and Hart. Seeing Fred emerge from the lift into the lobby, box of stuff balanced precariously in her arms, readying herself for a busy day ahead. Like Fred had been then, Winifred was alone: for a second, I wondered where my other self was. I stopped wondering pretty quickly once Winifred came into full view. My heart stopped for one beat, was too stunned to do anything for the second, then jumped back into high gear.

She was… she was perfection _._ Dressed nowhere near as provocatively as her counterpart, but far more prettily. Her soft, luxurious hair cascading in ever-so-slightly messy waves down to her shoulders, framing her face. Her softly shining skin, that adorable nose, the slightly quizzical and slightly nervous twist of her lips, and her _eyes._ They sparkled, they shone, they _burned_ from within. I could practically see her mind racing as those intelligent, warm, soft eyes flicked around the room tentatively before they settled on me. And widened, as Winifred broke into a relieved smile. I rapidly unclasped my hands from behind my back and offered a tentative smile in return, desperately beating back the urge to look away, pat my hair or adjust my clothes.

“Wes!” Winifred dashed forward until she was a couple of steps away from me, then skidded to a sudden halt, eyes sweeping up and down me before they fixed on my own. “Are you okay??” I almost jumped for joy at the obvious concern in her voice, and felt my heart flutter in my chest: Winifred _cared_. She cared how I’d been doing, perhaps… perhaps she’d even been worried about me.

“I’m fine, thank you.” I couldn’t help but smile at the relief on her face, her smile broadening and if she’d been beautiful before, then now she was divinity. Oh, God, I hadn’t asked her yet! “Are… are you alright? How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m good. Really good. I’ve managed not to get shot at, fall over, or have to run away from anything for a full ten minutes. Which feels like a new record, honestly.” My stomach twisted of its own volition. Poor Winifred! Of course, she’d been under assault for almost her entire existence: split by the Ferula, browbeaten into staying behind by Fred, chased up here by something, berated by Fred, running to the lifts, seeing Wesley 1.0 shot before her eyes…

She needed a hot chocolate, a seat on the sofa, and a chance to unwind. Post-haste. 

“Thanks for asking.” Winifred smiled at me ever so slightly wider than before. Judging by the rush of heat in my cheeks, I’d blushed at the exact same moment she had. She ran one hand through her hair to neaten it slightly - did she not know it looked just as wondrous messy as it did neat? - before turning slightly to face Fred. “And as for _you_!” Winifred pointed accusingly, expression souring several pH levels.

My heart - already beating very insistently against my ribcage - sped up further. Oh God. They couldn’t fight. They couldn’t, that would be… very bad. I had to-

“Oh, I’m good as well! Thanks so much for asking.” Fred smiled in that lazy, cat-like way she’d perfected, then adopted a perplexed frown and nodded at Winifred. “Winifred, don’t you know it’s rude to point at people?”

Winifred’s hand began to withdraw for the space of a second, then it shot back out and her expression became indignant. “Don’t you dare start talking to me about rudeness you… you!!”

“Ouch.” Fred put one hand over her heart and grinned. “That stings. No punches pulled, huh?”

“Don’t you _dare_ use your superior social skills against me, you impetuous, reckless…” This did not seem to be de-escalating.

Was my counterpart going to start an argument with me when he got here? I really hoped not. I’d had no time to prepare debating materials.

Winifred was still going, but now she glanced at me. “Wesley could have been hurt because of you! How could you do that?” A familiar fuzzy feeling was coming back.

“Winifred, really, I’m fine! You two don’t have to-”

“He couldn’t have been any more hurt than we were.” Fred retorted.

“Oh, so just a roughly fifty percent chance of completely losing his grip on sanity?” Winifred shot back, eyes flashing. 

Fred’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. I cast around for someone to appeal me to help me stop the argument. Alas, nobody who could be helpful was on hand to assist me. Not even Harmony was available. “More like a fifty percent chance of becoming an invertebrate.” Then Fred’s cat-like smile returned. “Besides, on the subject of making sure Wesley is okay…” 

Fred moved too fast for me to react, slinging one arm casually over my shoulders. I froze in shock, unable to look away from what looked faintly like _outrage_ on Winifred’s face (which didn’t really make sense, why would she be cross because of that?). “… I don’t seem to be the one who _lost_ their Wesley.” Fred beamed. “Mine’s doing just fine.” I gently but firmly took a step away at a forty degree angle, moving out of her grip and marginally closer to Winifred: I was not going to be a pawn in this argument.

At least, not on the side I fundamentally disagreed with. I was _not_ happy that I’d been shot. This could all have been resolved by now if she hadn’t shot me!

“I… I did not lose him!” Winifred protested. “He sent me up here to look for you two while he went to help Knox!”

Fred guffawed. “Okay, first point, you had other Wesley at your disposal and you sent him to _help Knox?_ Couldn’t think of even _one_ better use for him than that? I sure could.” Winifred went bright pink. I was occupying a shade somewhere between pink and tomato red. “Second point… you _let_ him send you up here like a messenger girl? _God._ Sure, you got the brains, but did you really get none of our independence, our drive, our courage?”

Winifred’s hands moved to her hips, and she drew herself up to her full - in my opinion wonderful, but not particularly imposing - height. “I _am_ courageous!” She turned to look at me. “Wes, tell her!”

My mouth went dry. Oh God. I was being drawn into the argument. Well, this was fine. Of course it was fine. I was just being asked whether I thought she was courageous. Simple. For the last two years, I’d seen her perform countless feats of bravery and valour, even discounting her experiences prior to my meeting her. Granted, I hadn’t seen Winifred perform any acts yet, but in my opinion standing up to Fred like she had was definitely on par with lion (or perhaps dragon) taming in terms of bravery required. Yes, that would do if I was pushed for a specific example. I cleared my throat.

“Go ahead, Wes.” Fred beamed over at me, smiling like an innocent angel. Suspicion reared its ugly head: Fred was many things, but _not_ an angel. Certainly not compared to Winifred. What was she- “Tell her what she wants to hear. Lie to us! Is that the kind of precedent you want to set at the beginning of this relationship?”

Winifred joined me on tomato-red. If there was a deeper flush possible than tomato-red, I would have been there. I studiously avoided looking at Winifred. Winifred studiously avoided looking at me. I prepared to glare at Fred, decided that would be an unwise move, and settled for a mildly reproachful look. “I… well… but… I don’t know what you mean by… by ‘relationship’, but on that subject, is _shooting me_ the kind of precedent you want to set?”

“Well…” The predatory smile Fred let slip gave me a very bad feeling that was exactly what she’d intended for me to say. “If it means I get to have _two of you_ to play with any time I want… then _definitely._ Wouldn’t you say, Winifred?”

“But what on Earth would you want two of me…” I trailed off, feeling even warmer. Fred smirked. “Oh. I…”

A great deal of strength decided now was the time to leave my legs and seek bright new opportunities elsewhere, causing me to sit down heavily on the floor, brain spinning quite dizzyingly. Fred had… she’d… she wanted… two of me… for…

My head hurt.

“Wes!” Winifred dashed over and joined me on the floor, eyes scrutinising me. briefly. She pulled me into a gentle hug, wrapping her arms around my torso. Her hair smelled like something sweet but exotic and unidentifiable. Her hands were warm, and the embrace was tender and loose yet firm. It felt rather like the best moment of my life so far. “Wes, are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Just a little…” I rubbed my forehead and made eye contact, smiling apologetically. “It’s been a very taxing evening.”

Winifred laughed. “I think ‘taxing’ is putting it very mildly.”

“Well, you’ve been through the wringer much worse than me.” I smiled apologetically. 

Winifred dropped her voice to a whisper. “That’s mainly my fault for having a crazy alter ego for you to deal with. Yours isn’t so bad, he didn’t cause any problems.”

I felt a sudden and quite irrational burst of jealousy. “Oh.”

“I mean, he didn’t shoot at me. Or dismiss you.” Winifred flushed slightly and her voice became suddenly more stammering. “Or, y’know, tackle me into a closet. Or umm imply that he would want to… two of me… for…”

She looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I could empathise. I intervened. “You never know, he might be just as bad as Fred.”

Winifred giggled. “That’s really not possible, is it?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, privately agreeing. “He might be off beating Knox to within an inch of his life right now.”

Winifred giggled again (I was confident it was the loveliest sound I’d ever heard), then frowned at me, looking perplexed. “Wait, what would he have against Knox?”

“Err…”

I was saved from answering that particular question by the lift. Specifically, it making a ping noise and opening in front of us. Now, I’d known that there was a duplicate of me walking around. I’d even worked out to some extent which parts of my original personality and skillset he logically possessed. But there was a difference between logically knowing those things, and being prepared to see your double march out of a lift.

He looked a great deal like me (obviously). But he walked with a confidence that I definitely didn’t possess, almost an assurance, like he knew that he was master of all he surveyed. He looked singularly unfazed, as if every twist of tonight’s events had come as nothing more than a minor surprise, quickly absorbed and factored into a larger plan. His blue eyes were cool and piercing. They alighted on me for a moment: the pleased smile that followed looked entirely out of place on him, but he managed to look ruggedly handsome nonetheless. He winked at me so fast I almost missed it, then turned away and kept walking across the lobby.

Right up to Fred. Winifred gasped, looking between them nervously. I was on the same page as her. I rather doubted my double would appreciate that Fred shot him. Throw our two more confident personas - possessing the fighting skills, tenacity, and confidence that was the perfect powder keg for a confrontation - at each other, when one had reason to be very displeased with the other…

This could go very badly indeed. We had to do something! Before one of them-

“Well.” Fred drawled, face lighting up with a broad, genuine smile. “Where have you been all my life, handsome?” 

“Somewhere incomparably inferior to here, in terms of quality of company.” My counterpart smiled. “Waiting, for this very moment.” Oh. He… he wasn’t cross. I suppose that was good?

“Mmm, that sounds like a prepared line.” Fred raised an eyebrow, eyes dancing. 

“Well, all the best things are worth preparing for.” He raised an eyebrow. “And I’d make the point that your outfit, while ravishing, was certainly prepared with great care, given that Winifred is dressed entirely differently.”

“Guilty. But what does the preparation of my outfit have to do with anything?” Fred tilted her head, smile widening.

“It implies you care what I feel when I look at you.” He paused for a moment. “Would you like to know what I do think?”

“I suppose I could stand to hear it” Fred shrugged.

“You’re the most beautiful woman there’s ever been.” Somehow, Fred’s hand had ended up in his grip. He bent down to kiss it.

“I suppose you’re not too bad yourself.” Fred shrugged.

“‘Not too bad’ doesn’t sound like an appropriate adjective for someone you’ve confessed to daydreaming about.” 

“Touché.” 

He was still holding her hand between them, and at this moment began to stroke small circles on the back of it with his thumb. “May I take you away from here? Somewhere away from prying eyes?”

“Oh, you _may_.” Their smiles were both blinding in their radiance. “Where are you thinking of taking me?”

“I hate to propose dinner again, but I know a charming place. Lovely atmosphere. Wonderful drinks.”

“And I hate to turn down dinner again, but I must. Counter-offer.” Fred took a step closer to him, their noses almost touching. “Remember the mini-bar in Angel’s apartment?”

I saw my counterpart’s eyes widen momentarily, before he regained control of himself. “That sounds delightful.”

“It will be.” Fred kissed his cheek, then pulled him away across the lobby, towards Angel’s office. And beyond that, his mini-bar.

“Wait!” Winifred called out, frowning at them. They turned around to face us, eyebrows raised in unison. “Where… where are you going? And why?”

“I’d also quite like to know.” I volunteered. “If it’s all the same to you. We do need to put ourselves back together at some point, after all.”

A smile tugged at Fred’s lips as my counterpart turned to face her. They exchanged a very meaningful look.“Should we tell them?” He asked. I frowned.

“And spoil the surprise?” Fred stopped trying to fight the smile, letting a broad, distinctly wicked grin emerge onto her face. Ah. Surprises. The strange twisting feeling in my gut indicated that I didn’t like those. Especially any surprise that made Fred smile quite so mischievously.

“Surprise?” He raised an eyebrow. “They’ll figure it out.”

“I’m really not sure about that. I _suppose_ we should.” Fred sighed, then turned to look directly at Winifred. “Winifred… do you remember when Mom sat us down and talked to us about the birds and the bees?”

“Yes, of course.” Winifred frowned. “But what does that… oh.” Winifred flushed deep pink and blinked several times. “Oh.”  


Birds and bees? What on Earth…

Oh. _Oh._ They were going to… oh.

Fred smiled meaningfully at us, then spun around as they resumed their walk towards Angel’s office… and his apartment. “You kids have fun!” She called over her shoulder.

“Should… should we…” I tried very hard not to look at Winifred or the two duplicates of us across the lobby. “Try to stop them?”

“I, umm, really don’t think we could…” Winifred mumbled. “I mean… I think they’re the fighting duo, so they’d probably beat us up, laugh at us, tie us up, laugh some more, take photos, and then just go ahead and… y’know… do _it_ anyway.”

“Oh, right.” I frowned. “Fair point.”

The door to Angel’s office swung closed behind them. They were probably entering the lift right now. So soon, in a few minutes at most, they’d be… 

“Do you want to go figure out a way to undo this?” Winifred asked slowly, making tentative eye contact. “Together, I mean. Two heads are better than one… although since we’re technically half a head each, I don’t know how the addition works out…”

“Yes, I would like that. Very much.” I nodded. Take my mind off of… current events. Forget this mess of an evening had happened. Sit down with Winifred, hit the books, solve this puzzle together.

“Great. Shall we use your office?” Winifred swallowed. “It’s closer than mine and there’s all the books. Plus scrolls and lots of other nice things I’m sure.”

“Sounds good.” I nodded.

I realised very abruptly that both of us had never got around to standing up, and Winifred was still embracing me. I felt myself flush and saw my reaction mirrored in Winifred. We leapt to our feet at about the same time and rapidly disentangled ourselves.

Perhaps too rapidly, as Winifred let out a yelp and stumbled backwards, teetering-

I moved on instinct, catching her back with the flat of one hand to steady her. She rebalanced herself, stumbling upright, and shot me a shy smile. I realised my hand was now extraneous (and had been for a few seconds) so I withdrew it.

Was I sweating? I felt like I was sweating.

“Thanks.” Winifred hadn’t stopped smiling yet. She had to. Any second.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled back.

She didn’t stop.

\+ + + + + + +

**Fred**

As soon as the elevator doors were closed, I slammed Wesley against them and kissed him. He responded eagerly, confidently, arms wrapping around me tight. I reciprocated, unable to keep from letting out a soft purr. Now _this_ was better. Winifred got to be happy with her Wes. And I got to be happy with mine. _Very_ happy. And he’d be happy too. As long as he did what he was told. I grinned, imagining he wouldn’t have too much of a problem with that.

I pulled away, nuzzling his nose with mine as we both panted for breath. I ran one hand down his shirt and smiled. “Your heart is hammering.” I murmured, moving my ear to his chest. “How many beats per minute is that?”

“Were you expecting me _not_ to be experiencing the biggest adrenaline rush of my life?” Wesley asked, fingers twining into my hair.

“I’d be insulted if you weren’t.” I kissed his cheek. “Wait a moment.” I turned around, untangled one of my arms and reached over to press the elevator button. It started moving up.

“I’m still the smart one.” I flicked his nose and grinned.

“Does that make me the pretty one?” He raised an eyebrow, eyes sparking.

Oh, I _really_ liked this one. “Are you saying I’m not pretty?”

“Only because you’re better described as radiant.” He shrugged.

“Not a bad answer.” I smiled, then laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?” His thumb began to stroke my cheek and I shivered slightly. 

“Just thinking about our two friends downstairs.” I smiled. “Probably surrounding themselves with books in your office right now. Setting up a nice little study date.”

“I bet I bring you a hot chocolate.” He chuckled.

“You’d better.” I smirked. “She might be too shy to complain, but I’ll chew both of you out for it if I get put back together and find out you didn’t pamper my other self enough.”

“Noted.” He frowned thoughtfully. “What do you think they’ll get up to?”

I giggled. “I’d be amazed if they made it past hand-holding.”

Wesley barked a soft laugh. “Have you so little faith in them?” 

“I have a lot of faith in you, and a great deal of faith in me.” I pulled him into another passionate kiss. “Which given the zero-sum nature of our existences, translates to very little faith in them.”

“Fair point.” He nodded.

“Well-” One of his fingers covered my lips mid-sentence. I raised my eyebrows at him.

His eyes were dark and intense. “No more talking.”

He _had_ learned something!

I hadn’t even begun to feel out of breath yet when the doors pinged open behind him. He stumbled back and I flung out one arm to brace myself on the side of the elevator. He fell onto the carpet in front of me with a soft thud.

I gently pressed one heel into his thigh, earning me his rapt attention. “Come along, then.” I smiled, kicked off both my heels, and raced into the apartment.

I’d just managed to spin round and sit down on the edge of the bed before he caught up with me. Impressive performance. Hopefully he had the stamina to match. I had a very good feeling he did.

I shimmied back towards the centre of the bed, rolling over so I was straddling him. He didn’t seem to mind. “Shirt.” I instructed. Wesley smiled like a lovestruck idiot (in a cute way) and started to unbutton his shirt. I figured there was no sense in making it easy for him, and bent down to distract him with a satisfyingly long kiss.

“You know,” Wesley murmured, undoing the last of his buttons. “Angel is going to be able to smell all of this when he gets back later?”

“I suppose we’re not going to be able to keep this torrid love affair a secret, then.” I teased. “Does that bother you?”

“Not particularly.” Wesley frowned. “But you’re not the one he’s going to try and wreak subtle revenge on.”

“What’s Angel’s idea of subtle revenge?” I mused, pulling his shirt out from underneath his back and tossing it off the bed.

“Not very.” Wesley smiled sardonically. I huffed a laugh. 

“Well, if you’re so afraid about making Angel upset, we can go somewhere else.” I dragged my nails up his very satisfyingly bare - and extremely gratifyingly muscular - chest deliberately. “All the way down to the basement. Steal one of his cars. Drive miles to get somewhere else-”

“I don’t think I can wait a second longer.” Wesley paused. “If you still…”

“Yes.” I smiled, bending down. “I know what I want. _You_.”

“I haven’t wanted anything but you in years.” Wesley murmured. I wasn’t one for sappy romantic lines - strictly Winifred’s department - but _that_ made me smile.

“Wesley?” I kissed him.

“Fred?”

“Shirt."

\+ + + + + + +

**Wes**

I swallowed and knocked on the door with my foot, being careful not to spill any of the mug’s contents. “Come in!” Winifred called out. I opened the door and walked in: my office had undergone a surprisingly extensive renovation during my absence. The chairs had been pushed into one corner, while the sofa had been dragged haphazardly towards the centre of the room, tangential to one corner of my desk. The papers on my desk had been very neatly stacked into a few piles (I had no doubt that if I checked, she would have sorted each file impeccably) and the free space created filled with books of various thicknesses, some open and some closed, but all - if what I was seeing was indicative of the broader portfolio - related to the arcane.

“Hi.” I smiled tentatively.

“Hi yourself.” Winifred shot me a quick smile back. I felt a pleasant, soft rush of warmth through me and felt my smile widen involuntarily. She returned to busying herself on the far side of my desk, scrutinising some of the books. “You know, you don’t have to knock to come in to your own office.” 

“Oh. Right. Of course. I, err, love what you’ve done with the place.” I gingerly picked my way across the office, fixing my eyes on a solitary spot on the desk free of papers or other obstructions. “It looks like a very efficient workspace.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Winifred nodded, focusing on my monitor screen, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Maximum free desk space, floorspace to put the books - which I arranged by subject and within subject by relevance - and it would be easy to check on what the other’s doing since we don’t have to walk to the other person’s chair.”

“Good thinking.” I put down the mug in the empty spot, fighting the urge to wipe an insurgent bead of sweat off my forehead as the mug made a loud _thunk_ noise entirely inconsistent with its size.

“What’s that?” Winifred glanced down at it, brow furrowing cutely.

“It’s a… a hot chocolate.” I swallowed. “Ah, hot cocoa, you call it on this continent.”

“That makes sense. Need all the energy you can get for this research, lord knows how long it will take.” Winifred frowned. I felt an icy wave of disappointment sluice through me. Why had I bothered? Of course she wouldn’t want it, I’d probably- “Remind me to get my own soon.”

I blinked. ‘Her own’? But that was… “That one is yours.” I managed to say quietly. “That is, if… if you want it.”

“Oh. Oh! Of course, sorry, I’m just not used to…” Winifred’s eyes widened as she looked at it before picking it up and sipping it. “Mmm.” Her eyes closed. They opened and she smiled at me, reddening slightly (probably the heat of the drink) as she turned back towards the monitor. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” I reluctantly broke eye contact and sat down on the sofa, scanning the reading material nearby and grabbing the book that seemed most relevant (My scan revealed that Winifred had successfully sorted everything both by subject and relevance. I’d probably have swapped the Sumerian Codex with the Demonic Rune Treatise, but that was personal preference more than anything), burying myself in it.

I heard a faint rustling and felt the sofa shift slightly as Winifred sat down beside me - she was sitting a little closer than normal, right? A little closer than necessary, surely. That had to be a good sign. Didn’t it? - and curled up comfortably. She was wearing her glasses. The lovely red teardrop frames with lenses changed twice. I didn’t blame her for not changing the frames: I couldn’t imagine any pair suiting her better.

Fred hadn’t ever worn the glasses, I realised. Then again, right now she probably wasn’t wearing much of anyth…

I shut down that line of thought, throwing myself into the passage. If I was to remain sane, I could not think about what my counterpart was doing. With Fred. In Angel’s apartment. In his bedroom. Although, I suppose they could really be anywhere in… No. Stop.

Please.

“What’s the thing on your monitor?” Winifred blurted out, looking over from her book.

“Hmm?” I blinked back to full awareness, turning to face her.

“The, err, thing. In the photograph you’ve blown up.” Winifred went slightly pink. “Sorry, I just… Ignore me, let’s get back to-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” I cast my mind back, trying very hard not to be distracted by the attentive look I was receiving from the girl of my dreams. Who was smarter than me, far out of my league, and who I _really_ didn’t want to make more of a fool of myself in front of than I already had. “It’s a tablet one of my spies found. In a corporate vault.”

“Greek, right?” Winifred fidgeted with a page of her book. “I mean… probably not, but it looked Athenian. At least to me.”

“Yes, definitely Greek and definitely Athenian. Well done.” It had taken me a good couple of minutes to be certain it was Athenian, and this was my job. Winifred was a scientist, not a historian, that she’d worked it out so fast was remarkable. “I’m trying to ascertain whether it’s an ancient artefact of doom or a piece of tat some executive bought by accident at a local stand.”

“How doom-y are we talking?” Winifred let the book fall onto her lap, fixing me with an intense look.

“Imagine plentiful harvests for the next seven years, then famine for forty-nine afterwards.”

“That’s pretty doom-y.” Winifred nodded, taking a long drink of cocoa. She did like it! Or she was pretending. She probably liked it. Why would she pretend? Unless she was being nice. Why would she do that? Maybe she was just very thirsty, and she just didn’t dislike it. She didn’t necessarily like it. I couldn’t be sure of that.

“No hot cocoa.” I ventured a smile. “Or coffee. Or tacos.”

“That sounds horrible!” Winifred shuddered, putting down the - near empty looking - mug. “I’ve eaten enough tree bark for one lifetime already, thank you. That wasn’t relevant. Sorry. Umm… what’s the problem with the identification?”

“The photo’s not high enough quality.” I explained. I hope she wouldn’t mind me asking for help. “I was actually hoping, if you’re not too busy and it’s not too tedious, that you would-”

“Have a try at fixing it?” Winifred volunteered.  
“I was going to say ‘work your usual magic’,” I smiled. “But, yes. Essentially.”

“I’ll get on it.” She nodded eagerly, then paused. “That is, if you’re okay on the whole… putting us back together situation without me? Just for a few minutes! If you’re not, then I can-”

“I’ll be okay without you.” I swallowed and made my best attempt at a charming smile. “But only if it’s just for a couple of minutes. Any longer and, well…”

“That can be arranged.” Winifred nodded, smiling back. “By me, that is. I’ll just… get to work. Now.” I noted that before she dashed off to grab my portable computer and unhook it from the monitor, she finished off the cocoa.

Winifred sat back down next to me - closer than she had last time - and stared intently at the screen, presumably beginning to clean up the photo. To me, it looked like a lot of typing and clicking. Ah, the mysteries of technology.

I’d stick to ancient curses and magic sticks, thank you very much.

“Ah, here we go.” I ran my finger over the paragraph. “It’s the ritual for reversing the effects of the Ferula Gemini.”

“Tell me we don’t need the still-beating heart of an albino lion or something.” Winifred murmured from beside me.

“No, nothing so extravagant. Some candles, standard pentagram on the floor.” I read through carefully. “Ah, an incantation let’s see…” I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and read it again. 

“What’s the incantation?” Winifred asked, then sat up straight. “I mean, don’t read it aloud if it’s gonna do something bad. Or neutral. Or weird. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just… seriously lacking in class.” I frowned. “It’s just ‘let the spell be broken’.”

“That’s… it?” Winifred frowned. “Huh.”

“It has to be spoken by someone with some innate magical power.” I kept reading.

“Not me, then.”

“Nonsense, you’re the most magical person I know.” I replied absent-mindedly, then froze. I’d just… said that.

Out loud. To Winifred. Kill me.

I glanced over at her. She was staring at her computer screen like it contained the secrets of the universe. Knowing her, it might. 

Oh, God, I’d screwed up.

“Got it!” Winifred pronounced triumphantly. “Touch-goal! I mean, touch-down! Or, just goal. Or-”

“Touch-down works.” I reassured her, eager for the excuse to never bring up what I’d said again. “What’s the result?”

“One un-blurred photo, courtesy of me.” Winifred scooted slightly over on the sofa, positioning the computer between us. Her leg bumped mine gently as she finished moving. She didn’t move away. I didn’t either. I tried to revel in the feeling while simultaneously ignoring it to focus on the photo.

“That is very un-blurred, thank you.” I squinted at the tablet.

“Verdict?” Winifred prompted.

“It’s bad news.” I paused. “We won’t be planning a daring heist together.”

“Aww.” Winifred frowned, then brightened. “Although also yay! Because, y’know, one less apocalypse to deal with. No ‘Death of Grass’ situation.”

“I love that book.” I smiled, then frowned. “Terribly depressing.” 

“Yeah. Shame they didn’t have a Wesley Wyndam-Pryce to break the curse.” Winifred smiled broadly at me.

“Or a Winifred Burkle to synthesise a new food source.” I countered.

“Yep. Strictly limited to saving real worlds, not fictional ones.” Winifred sighed. “Sorry, Sirius.”

“Oh, God, I cried over him.” I murmured.

“Me too. I actually had ice cream, I was so sad.” Winifred sniffled. Acting on pure instinct, I took her hand and squeezed it gently. For a terrible few seconds, she didn’t do anything.

Then she smiled at me shyly and squeezed gently back. We didn’t look away from each other. At some point, the book slid off my lap and onto the floor. The computer shared its fate. I barely noticed. Nothing existed.

Except for her.

“I’m sorry.” Winifred said quietly.

Anxiety warred with a desire to comfort her. Anxiety lost. “Whatever for?” I asked.

“For being afraid. To… to really talk to you. About things. For being really, really complicated.” Winifred broke eye contact, looking down at our hands, entwined, resting on our legs (which were side-by-side). “But also partly because you’re stuck here with me instead of… y’know.”

“Instead of what?” I frowned, entirely perplexed.

“There’s two of me, and two of you.” Winifred made eye contact again and smiled ruefully. “The other you got to run off with witty, beautiful, confident Fred. And you’re stuck here. With me.”

It was with the greatest effort of my life that I kept from laughing out loud at the irony. “Winifred, I swear to you on every bone in my body, on my life, and on my soul, that I much, _much_ prefer you to anyone else. And that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than right here.”

Winifred frowned, eyes running across my face. She slumped slightly and mumbled something.

“Pardon?” I managed, feeling anxiety twist a knot in my guts. What had she said? What did she think?

“I said, you’re a scarily good liar.” Winifred shrugged and sighed. “I know we already did this but… c’mon. She’s all…”

“Terrifying?” I suggested. “Reckless? Aggressive and violent, bordering on homicidal? Constantly off-putting?”

“She’s not that-”

“Winifred, I _much prefer you._ ” I squeezed her hand. “Please, _please_ believe me.”

She nodded shyly.

“To be perfectly clear, I find your other self terrifying.” I smiled. “I, ahh, don’t like that.”

Winifred swallowed, then asked very quietly. “How do you find me?” She looked at me, beautiful eyes as wide as I’d ever seen them.

“I think I already said.” Her brow furrowed. “Magical.” Her eyes softened further, and her smile was truly radiant. 

Winifred leaned forwards slightly. “I think you’re magical too.” She murmured, eyes shining.

I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face and see every contour of her smile. “Winifred,” I whispered. “May I… do you want me to-”

“Yes.” Winifred nodded, smiling. “Very much.”

I squeezed her hand again, and brought up my other hand to cup her cheek. Her skin was soft beneath my fingertips, and incredibly warm. I drew a deep breath and leaned in. Winifred’s eyes closed a heartbeat before mine did, and I kissed her.

It was indescribable.

I gently broke it off, resting my forehead on hers. “Wow.” She said very quietly, smiling at me broadly. “That was… wow.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I kissed her again.

“For the record, I do think you’re courageous. And I’m not lying.” I murmured, smiling. “Frankly, anyone brave enough to stand their ground against your alter ego deserves some kind of award.”

“That is _me_ you’re making fun of, remember.” Winifred said mock reproachfully, her amusement belied by her broadening smile.

“I can also remember many times when it was your quick thinking and smarts that saved the day, not fast talking and confidence.” I paused. “Like the time with the bugs. Where you saved the day by returning their eggs.”

“Wes?” Winifred looked like she was struggling not to laugh. 

“Yes?”

“Don’t talk to me about giant bugs right now.” Winifred smiled wider.

“Well, I think you were the one who said ‘giant’, not me but-”

I was grateful with hindsight that Winifred had kept me from continuing.

“We could have been doing this for years.” Winifred murmured a while later, head resting on my shoulder, curled into my side. “We’re so stupid.”

“You’re definitely not.” I kissed her cheek. “I was the stupid one. I’m sorry about that.”

“We both made mistakes.” Winifred tilted her head and kissed my cheek tenderly. “What matters now is moving forwards. I think?”

“I think you’re right.” I agreed. Speaking of which… “Should we get to work setting up the recombination spell?”

“Hmm.” Winifred pouted. “Could we maybe do that… later?” She looked at me pleadingly.

As if I could possibly refuse. “Anything for you.”

Winifred giggled. I raised an eyebrow. She kissed my cheek. “It’s just… your counterpart said something very similar when I asked him to help Knox.”

“Why did Knox need help?” I frowned. “What did I miss?”

“There’s no point explaining it, you’ll find out once you recombine.” Winifred murmured. “There’s better ways to pass the time right now.”

Before I could ask exactly _how_ we were to pass the time - as a way to flirt, not because I was exceptionally dense - there was a knock at the door.

_Fred’s_ knock.

Winifred let go of my hand and shimmied slightly away along the sofa, grabbing a book like her life depended on it. I grabbed the book I’d let fall on the floor and pretended to be engrossed in it.

“I hope you two are decent.” A familiar, teasing voice came from the direction of the door as it swung open. I glanced over: it was Fred. In the flesh. Although she looked… different. Somehow. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Winifred demanded.

“Nothing you’re supposed to understand, sweetie.” Fred sauntered over to lean back against the desk in front of us - triggering a cascade of memories that made me flush - and cocked her head. “So, what have you two been getting up to?”

“Researching how to clean up your mess.” Winifred muttered rebelliously.

“I think technically this is your mess, since you’re the one who gave me cause to split him in two.” Fred shrugged.

“But YOU’RE the one who shot him!” Winifred stood up, marching up to Fred. “And the one who fired Knox, which made him come after me, which made me have to come looking for you two!”

I suddenly identified what had changed about Fred, now she was standing next to Winifred. She’d changed clothes. The skirt was the same, but the shirt Fred was wearing was a different colour, and looked too big yet strangely familiar…

It was _my_ shirt. Why was she…

Oh. Right. Of course. His shirt.

I coughed. “Where’s my other half, Fred?”

“Here.” Fred grinned wickedly and pointed at Winifred, who flushed just as pink as I did.

“No, I… you know full well I meant my counterpart.” I frowned admonishingly at Fred.

“Oh, him. He’ll be down soon.” Fred smiled. “He’s just a little… worn out at the moment.” Fred stretched languidly and shot Winifred a very deliberate wink.

“Well, once you fetch him we can recombine ourselves.” I explained, trying - once again - to bury the implications of what she was saying.

“What’s the deal with the spell?” Fred tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“It’s quite simple. Standard magical pentagram, five candles, and a decidedly unimpressive incantation. No pain, no disorientation, very little magical exertion.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to _exert_ ourselves.” Fred nodded mock seriously. Then her eyes lit up and she spun to Winifred. “Oh, Winifred?”

“What now?” Winifred sighed, folding her arms and looking at her counterpart sceptically.

“Is it okay if we swap?” Fred made puppy eyes. “Pretty please?”

“Huh?” Winifred frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s simple. I’ll bring Wesley down from upstairs so you and him can get the circle all done and ready.” Fred walked over to me and brushed some imaginary dust off my shoulders. “In the meanwhile I’ll take good care of Wes. Promise.” She smiled wickedly, looking between me and Winifred. 

“Oh.” Winifred’s eyes widened and she went red. “Why don’t you take good care of _your_ one? Wes is mi… busy.”

“My one’s all tuckered out, like I said. He’d have the energy to draw a magic pentagram on the floor, but more… vigorous activity is beyond him.” Fred smiled at me. I was reminded once again of the lioness. “Whereas _you_ seem all fresh and energetic.”

“Well.” Winifred turned away and marched to the desk, beginning to read something. I wagered if she had laser eyes, my desk would have a hole burned through it right now. “Umm. I… I guess it’s up to him.”

“You game, Wes?” Fred cupped my cheek, smiling prettily. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

My throat felt very dry. Fred was offering to… to… 

Winifred looked _upset_. She was hiding her face behind her hair, looking very pointedly at the desk. Not on my watch. “I think I quite like the scenery here, thank you.” I inclined my head politely.

“Aww. If you’re sure.” Fred sighed unhappily, then whispered under her breath, so low only I could hear. “Good job.”

Good job? What did that mean? Had she been… testing me? “If you could retrieve my counterpart, Fred, I’d be grateful.” I walked over to the desk, pulling open a drawer to look for my pentagram-drawing-implements. “We’ll get everything prepped here in the meantime.”

“Very _commanding_.” Fred stood up straight, saluted, and winked. “No problem, boss.” She blew Winifred a kiss, then walked right back out the door. I took the chalk out of the drawer, closed it, and straightened up.

Winifred was staring at me. She looked shocked. 

“What is it?” I asked, turning to face her properly.

“But she was all…” Winifred frowned. “I mean, she was gonna… and I’m just…”

“Perfect.” I finished, and kissed her forehead. Winifred threw her arms around me and kissed me forcefully. 

“We… don’t have much time.” Winifred murmured afterwards. “If we’re not done when they get here… well, I don’t want to see her _knowing_ look.”

“We should leave ourselves some time.” I agreed reluctantly. “To get everything right. Make sure we don’t quarter ourselves.”

“Oh, _please_ no.” Winifred looked terrified. “I can’t deal with two copies of me like _her_ running around! Who knows what they’d get up to?”

“I think it’s best if I say nothing here but an ambiguous ‘hmm’.” I paused. “Hmm.”

“That is probably best.” Winifred sighed, kissed me chastely on the lips, and unwrapped herself from the hug. I reluctantly followed suit. “Why don’t you draw, and I’ll get the candles?” 

“Sounds good. Candles are in the first store-cupboard on the left down corridor three.” Winifred nodded, smiled and waved, then dashed out.

I felt her absence keenly already. I bent down and started to draw the pentagram on the carpet. The cleaners were going to hate me. I was so engrossed, I didn’t notice Winifred had come back until she was placing candles next to me.

“One candle. Two candles. Three candles. Four candles.” Winifred placed down the last and straightened up. “Five candles!”

“Go team.” I stood up and brushed the chalk dust off my trousers. “Ready for one magical ritual.”

“Not quite.” Winifred tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see her proffering a takeaway coffee cup. “You’ll need this first.” She smiled.

I took the cup and sipped it. “Tea. Oh, you’re a Godsend.” I had a longer drink and sighed happily. “Thank you, this is lovely.”

“No it’s not.” Winifred rolled her eyes and smiled indulgently.

“It is.” I insisted.  
“Is it though?”

“I… well…” Oh, blast. “It’s the thought that counts. And the caffeine.”

“I don’t brew very good tea. Too many years drinking coffee religiously.” Winifred shrugged. “Still, it does the trick. Kinda. Right?”

“Oh, absolutely. I feel quite invigorated.” I put down the cup and bent down to kiss her. Part of me still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “And very special.”

“You are special. In the best of ways.” Winifred beamed up at me.

We turned away from each other by silent agreement as footsteps approached the door to my office, not bothering to disguise themselves. I glanced over more out of habit than curiosity to see Fred and my double entering the room. “Howdy, kids.” Fred slouched against the doorway, eyes roaming the room casually. She was thankfully wearing her own shirt again, and her hair looked newly damp. Presumably she’d taken the opportunity to shower. 

“Good evening, fair lady.” My counterpart inclined his head to Winifred.

“Hi, Wesley.” Winifred dipped her head in reply. “I never got to ask, did you find Knox? Or the Knoxes?”

“I did.” He nodded.

“There’s no point telling her the story.” Fred interrupted, strolling into the room to curl up on the sofa. “You already explained it all to me, she’ll remember in a couple of minutes.”

“Wait, hang on, that’s not… I wanna know _now._ ” Winifred muttered rebelliously, folding her arms. This would be a bad time to remind her she’d used the same logic to justify not telling me about Knox.

I had a feeling there would _never_ be a good time to remind her of that.

“Evening, my good man.” My counterpart walked over to me.

“Good evening, it’s my pleasure.” I extended a hand, failing to contain a giddy smile. I was actually talking to another half of my being. Fascinating.

“Which makes it mine too, by any reckoning.” He smiled as well and shook my hand. “That’s an exceptionally firm handshake you’ve got there.”

“No such thing as too firm, only too weak or clammy.” I replied automatically.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He nodded. “How is your health?

“Marvellous, thank you.” I smiled politely. “And yours?”

“Much the same, much the same. Lovely weather we’ve been having.”

“Yes, I agree, gorgeous. No rain in weeks, pleasant temperatures and stunning sunshine.”

“We are in the sunshine state.” He noted.

“Yes, but they also call Yorkshire ‘God’s Own County’, and we can both agree that’s no paradise.” I joked. He barked a laugh.

“I knew it!” Winifred smiled triumphantly and pointed at us. “You’re doing the British thing!”

I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“The thing! Where you say hello really politely, enquire about each other’s health, talk about the weather and-” My counterpart burst into laughter beside me, clutching his stomach and wheezing. Winifred blinked, then shook her head disbelievingly. “Oh my _God_ , that was mean. Doing that on purpose!”

“Doing what?” I frowned.

“Winifred told us earlier that when we met, she expected us to do something British.” He explained, eyes gleaming, still chuckling slightly. “I decided to play up to her expectations. Apologies.”

“No, no need. It was quite hilarious.” I chuckled. “I wish I’d thought of it myself.”

“You did.” He pointed out, grinning.

“You’re too clever by half.” I shook my head.

“Which makes you too clever by at least five quarters, by my reckoning.” He glanced me up and down. “And more handsome than fair, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, that is a charitable compliment.” I chuckled at his blatant narcissism.

“Okay, Chuckle Brothers, let’s wrap this up.” Fred called over. “Wes, how does this work?”

“Well, its quite simple. Two people step in, I say the brief incantation, and it’s done.” I shrugged. “Child’s play.” 

“We should go first.” Winifred said, looking over any Fred meaningfully. “That way if there’s problems, the mystical expert is still in one piece. Well, two. I just mean… you know what I mean.”

“Sounds good.” Fred nodded, then skipped over to other me. “I’ll _miss_ you.” She murmured huskily, then kissed him.

Passionately.

At length.

Great length.

I edged away, moving to stand by Winifred. “They have a lot of energy.” She mumbled.

“Yes, they do, don’t they.” It hit me. I blinked several times. “Winifred?”

“Wes?” She smiled at me attentively.

“When we get merged back together… we’ll remember everything both halves of ourselves did, won’t we? Brain Transplant Joint survival case paradox otherwise.”  
“That’s _exactly_ what I said earlier!” Winifred beamed at me. “We’re so in sync. That’s crazy.”

“That is wonderful.” I swallowed. “But that means that, a minute from now, we’ll remember everything they did.”

Winifred shrugged, looking nonplussed. “And?”

Oh dear. How to put this. “ _Ev-ery-thi-ng.”_ I said slowly. “Including what they did when they were… alone.”

Her mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘o’ shape of surprise and her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yes.” I swallowed.

“That is… well.” Winifred had gone pink again. She matched my shade exactly. “I mean… umm…”

“Ok, move it along you two!” Fred snapped her fingers right in-between us. I yelped, jumping back a step. Winifred recoiled, then shot Fred a _filthy_ look. “Say your goodbyes, let’s get this show moving.”

This was the last time I’d ever be in a room with Winifred. There’d be Fred, of course. Original Fred, not the terrifying one. But Winifred… she was going away. Becoming part of a larger whole again. 

God, I was going to miss her. Maybe that was stupid of me.

But I was.

“I’m going to miss you.” Winifred stepped hesitantly up to me and took both my hands, squeezing them gently. “I know that’s silly, but…”

“I’m going to miss you too.” I confessed, then steeled myself. “Winifred?”

“Wes?”

I took a deep breath, then looked her in the eyes. “I love you.” Her eyes went wide. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. “You don’t have to say anything.” I put in quickly. “But that’s… that’s how I feel.”

“I… I don’t think I love you _yet_.” Winifred spoke slowly and with great care. “I… I do things slowly-”

“Boy, do you _ever_.” Fred muttered.

“- but I think I _will_ love you.” Winifred smiled. “Very, _very_ soon. And it’s… we’re going to be really happy.”

“Anything I can do to speed that up?” I half-joked, feeling a surge of euphoria run through me. 

“Just keep being you.” Winifred kissed me softly, passionately, and all-too-briefly. She squeezed my hand one last time, and backed up into the circle.

“That was really sweet.” Fred sighed, stepping after her. “Super adorable, right?”

“Completely adorable.” My counterpart nodded. “We should have filmed it, really.”

“We will remember it from two different angles.” Fred mused. “That’s kind of good enough, I guess.”

“If that is _quite enough?”_ I raised an eyebrow, looking between them meaningfully. They quieted down. I turned back to Winifred, and smiled. She smiled back. “Close your eyes, or you’ll get dizzy.” I warned them.

Winifred nodded and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She looked adorable. Fred glanced at her, rolled her own eyes, then closed them.

I closed my own eyes, for luck. “Let the spell be broken.” I declared.

“Do I need to click my heels together three times and say there’s no place like home?” Fred asked tentatively.

I opened my eyes and smiled. “No, just… open your eyes.”

Fred - as of now the one and only - opened her eyes and glanced to her left, then to her right. “Where did she… oh. Right.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, _GOD,_ that is disorienting.” She stumbled back to sit down on the sofa, rubbing her temples. 

I imagined processing two sets of memories was difficult. Especially when they were so different. Confrontational, at times. And when they diverged: one towards the intellectual and emotional, the other towards the… ah… intensely physical.

“Well, it worked.” My counterpart stated the obvious.

“Yes, it did.” I examined Fred slightly more closely, noting that her hair had dried. “There’s a… certain something there that wasn’t there when she was split, don’t you think?” Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on…

“Oh, I agree.” He nodded. “A fluidity of motion, a grace missing from the one, and a little sparkle in the eyes that was missing from the other.”

Fred inhaled and exhaled loudly several times. 

“Are you all right?” We asked simultaneously. 

“Oh, umm, fine.” Fred nodded firmly, standing up. “Just, y’know, processing, all the… your turn!” She gestured quite hurriedly to the pentagram.

“After you.” I gestured to my counterpart.

“No, by all means, you first.”

“Oh, but I insist.”

“On no account.”

“Age before beauty.”

“Wit before wisdom.”

I struggled to come up with a rejoinder and failed. Damn. He’d won that round. I stepped in first, swiftly followed by him.

“You two really are _very_ British.” Fred murmured.

I looked to my double. “I don’t think so.”

“No clue what she’s talking about.” He smiled. “Then again, that’s par for the course, wouldn’t you say?”

“I think normally I understand what she says.” I mused. “Until she starts talking science, then it’s nine in every ten.”

“She is fantastically clever.”

“I’d say intelligent more than clever.” I frowned. “Clever is too-”

“Please stop complimenting me in unison?” Fred interrupted. She was flushed ever so slightly pink. “It’s really not making this… any easier.”

“I suppose this is it for us.” He looked me over.

“End of the line.” I nodded.

“The last dance.”

“The final curtain.”

“One last bow.”

“How about a handshake instead?” I offered a hand.

He shook firmly. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Most definitely.” I withdrew my hand, and closed my eyes.

“May the spell be broken!” I stated.

I waited a moment. I didn’t _feel_ any different. Surely I couldn’t have-

“You can open your eyes.” Fred squeezed my shoulder.

I glanced to my left, doing a double take: where had he… oh. Of course. “That is disorienting…” I muttered, glancing to my other side just to be sure. No, he was gone.

Or, _I_ was gone. I should say.

“Very.” Fred nodded.

“How long did it take for the memories to all come back?” I asked hesitantly.

“This long.” Fred looked at me warily.

A mental tsunami hit me and I reeled backwards. My mind was flashing with heat all of a sudden, as I tried to comprehend witnessing the same conversations - partaking in the same conversations - from two different sides. Searching for Knox. Fred dragging me into this office. Waiting here. Punching Knox - he’d tried to kill Fred, that _bastard!_ Researching the ritual to recombine ourselves. Staggering into Angel’s apartment with-

Oh my _God._

My shock must have shown. “This is weird.” Fred bit her lip. Which now reminded me of a dozen very enjoyable moments from mere minutes ago. 

Fred and I, we’d… then here she’d said that she thought she would… in time… that she might…

Could that still be true? Fred had said the first time I’d met her this evening that she was looking at me in… in a different light. Was it possible that…

“Do you want to-”

“Can I buy you-” I bit down hard: I’d started talking a millisecond after Fred. Who’d also stopped talking.

“You first?” Fred smiled hopefully, looking at me… was that nervously?

“I was going to ask if… if I could buy you dinner.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Tonight?”

“Oh, no.” Fred shook her head, and my heart plummeted into an abyss. “After… this was all my fault, so _I_ am buying _you_ dinner. As an apology for the… shenanigans tonight. No arguments. I mean if… if you want to have dinner?” She looked at me hopefully.

“I really, really want that.” I smiled.

“And how about you buy drinks afterwards?” Fred suggested, smile widening. “Lots of them.”

“Only if I’m allowed to buy them as a thank you for a very…” I paused for a moment. “You know, I can’t think of a word to sum up tonight’s events.”

A few offered themselves. Exciting. Draining. Exhilarating. Terrifying. Confusing. Electrifying. Revelatory. Wonderful. Perfect.

“I can’t think of one sufficient word either. One that leaps to mind is… exhausting.” Fred smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry I shot you.”

“Water under the bridge.” I waved a hand dismissively.

“Wow. That was easy.” Fred smiled, walking slowly up to me. “That’s all I have to do to apologise?”

“I think we’ve both spent more than enough time apologising for the past.” I murmured. “Maybe it’s time to think about the future?”

“I like the sound of that.” Fred hesitated.

I very slowly, very carefully, reached up to stroke her cheek with one thumb as tenderly as I could. She let out a contented sounding sigh and tilted her head up. I bent down and kissed her. “So you’ve been seeing me in a different light?” I murmured. “It wasn’t just… because of the…”  
“Not just because of the Ferula, no.” Fred shook her head. “That just… it gave the impatient part of me free licence to roam.”

“So impatient is the safe term I should use to describe that manifestation of you from now on?” I grinned cheekily.

“Watch it.” Fred shoved me playfully. “I have so much dirt on you now it’s _ridiculous._ You take me down, I bring you down with me.”

I resisted the effort to remark on the apparently innocuous innuendo, but did allow myself to indulge momentarily in some very pleasant memories. “Oh? Such as?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to kiss and tell, _little spoon.”_ Fred smiled sweetly at me.

I felt myself flush. “Ah.” Well, she had me there. Had had me there, several times.

“That’s your fault for being such a good cuddler.” I smiled.

“I’m an excellent cuddler. Watch.” Fred hugged me, resting her head in the crook of my shoulder. I hugged her back. 

“I concur with your assessment.” I kissed the freely available top of her head. 

“Good.” Fred gently pulled away and beamed at me. “Where did you have in mind for dinner?”

“Well, since you’re paying, somewhere fancy.” Fred gave me a look. I loved that look. “Or alternatively, I know the most wonderful, charming little restaurant near a certain recently abandoned hotel.”

“The one that does the most amazing tacos?” Fred beamed at me.

“That’s the one.”

Fred signalled her approval non-verbally.

“How about I go grab a car from Angel’s garage, while you put _this-_ ” Fred disentangled herself and stooped down - I averted my eyes more out of habit than anything else - to retrieve a familiar looking staff from under my desk. “- into your vault? Where it can’t split anyone else?”

“Sounds very sensible.” I gingerly took the Ferula, taking pains to not point it directly at either of us.

“Any preferences for a car?” Fred asked, twirling one strand of hair around a finger.

“Something small, powerful, and classy.” I smiled. “And red.”

“How subtle.” Fred rolled her eyes playfully, deliberately pinching the collar of her red blouse. 

“I know who I want.” I said quietly.

“So do I.” I was over the moon even before she kissed me gently. “I’ll be parked just outside.”

“I’ll be there very soon.” I promised.

“Good.” Fred paused at the door, smiling. “Winifred’s having a nap right now. Fred could do with a night on the town.”

“I’ve never looked forward to anything more.” 

“ _Anything?_ ” Fred cocked her head.

“Anything.” I promised.

Her smile was a ray of sunshine. “I’ll see you soon.” She promised, and kissed me.

“I’ll be counting the seconds.” I kissed her back, wrapping one arm around her.

“You’re going to need to let go at some point.” Fred smiled teasingly.

I let out a dramatic sigh and kissed her one more time, before dropping my arm. “Happy now?”

“Not even remotely.” Fred kissed me on the cheek. “I will be once you’re back.”

I kissed her on the cheek. “Then drive fast. But not too fast.”

Fred laughed, waving energetically as she dashed out of the room.

I twirled the Ferula Gemini in my hand for a moment, then kissed it gently before I started running towards my vault. “Thank you, magic stick.” I mumbled under my breath, and smiled more widely than I had in as long as I could remember.

Then I mentally kicked myself, and ran for my vault as fast as I possibly could. I had a date to get to.

With _Fred!!!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the main body of the story done! Hope you've enjoyed it. There's also a short & sweet epilogue. If you have any thoughts on my writing or any criticisms, comments are really appreciated!!!


	4. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There always comes a reckoning.

**Angel**

I traipsed through the garage, wincing at a sudden pain in my side.

Why did any demon need _nine_ mouths? It only had _one_ head, what could it need _nine_ mouths for?So many teeth. All so sharp. Plus five arms. What kind of creature had an odd number of limbs What had I done to deserve this?

I looked at my sword, sighing. One more for the trash heap. I was never getting this thing’s blood off. It had already cooled and frozen itself around the blade like a scabbard. I was _not_ cleaning that off. I could check with Wes later, see if the blood was useful for anything. In the meanwhile…

I threw the sword as hard as I could away from my cars. “Stupid demon blood!” I yelled loudly. It was cathartic, for sure. The blade skittered away and I resumed my walk. I frowned, quickly counting my cars. I was missing one.

_Spike._ He’d taken one of my cars, _again._ I swear to God, if he used the river excuse one more time I was going to kill him and make sure he stayed dead this time. And he’d taken the red Porsche. Bastard.

I kicked the wall as I stepped into the elevator, taking slightly more care pressing the elevator button (last thing I needed was to break the lift control panel again. The maintenance guy always looked so smug when he came to fix it, like he’d put money on how many of the things I would go through in a year).

I slouched against the wall of my lift. I couldn’t be bothered to get clean. I was just going to walk in, collapse in bed, and forget this mess ever happened. The doors pinged open and I let out a relieved sigh, marching up to bed. I stretched and-

I recoiled away, retching at the smell that invaded my nostrils. People had slept together. On my bed! While I was out! Who the hell had done that on _my bed?_ I swear, if this was Eve’s way of getting back at me…

SPIKE! If this was him, he was deader than dead! He was deader than double, triple, quadruple dead! And hang what Buffy said if she ever found out!

I grimaced and breathed in the tiniest amount. I blinked. I sniffed again, more cautiously. _Fred?_ Fred had used my bed… with _Wesley?_

Since when had they been a thing? And why had they decided to do that on my bed, when they both had apartments! And offices! _My damn bed!_ Oh, they were in for a world of pain. At least Wesley was. He was going to regret this. God, I would make him regret this. I’d give him the job of cleaning up after Spike’s messes. Then I’d give Spike a call and complain to him about all the mess he was making, so he’d double the mess he caused. That would be just for starters.

I was going to shower. I marched into the bathroom, undid one button on my shirt, and marched straight back out again once the smell hit me. My shower too! Where did it end with these people? My bed, my shower, what was next, were they going to start going at it in… in…

My _Porsche!_ “You are a DEAD man, Pryce!” I yelled, wishing I still had my sword so I could throw it through the nearest wall. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Where was I meant to go? The smell wouldn’t go away for hours - maybe _days_ , judging by the intensity, god how long had they spent here to do it that many times? - there was probably nobody in the office and my wallet had got ruined during the fight. 

I scowled, pulled out my phone, and dialled. “Angel.” I could practically hear him leering over the line. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, supreme high corporate overlord?”

“Feel like company?” I forced myself to say the words as nonchalantly as I could. I couldn’t let him smell weakness. “I’ll bring some otter blood and a film.”

“No.”

“Look, I… can I… can I crash at your place?” I sighed. “It’s an emergency. Please.”

Spike laughed for a good long minute. “Why the bloody hell would I agree to that?”

“I’ve got gossip.” I glared at the mattress hatefully. This would be an even better way to get revenge.

“I don’t care.”

“It’s about Fred.” 

A pause. “How juicy?”

I resisted the urge to throw up at his use of that word, considering what had happened here not long ago, everything that I could still smell. “Red hot. Very juicy.”

“Fine. But you’re bringing otter blood, two films, and a car.”

“Fine, but I need to use your shower.” I spat. “Or the deal’s off.”

“BASTARD!” Spike roared, and hung up.

That was a yes. He was too invested to not find out now.

“Oh, yes. You’re gonna regret this.” I vowed under my breath, skulking back into the lift. “I’m gonna tell Spike what obviously happened here. By Monday, everybody’s gonna be gossiping. Just you wait.” 

\+ + + + + + +

**Fred**

“Are you coming to work or not?” I called out from the kitchen, taking a quick peek inside the toaster: not done yet.

“I am, be patient.” Wesley’s voice rang out from the bedroom.

“You are not making me late!” I shouted back, smiling. “I’m _never_ late, and I’m not about to start now!”

The toast popped out! I spun round, humming to myself, and buttered one slice to put on Wesley’s plate. I popped open my jar of Nutella, scooped out a sufficiently large dollop and spread it carefully over my toast. Magnificent. I closed my eyes and took a big bite. Heavenly.

A lot of things felt heavenly right now.

“How many calories is that, roughly?” I could tell he was smirking, could hear it on his face bare inches from mine.

I stuck my tongue out in his general direction without opening my eyes and he laughed, kissing my cheek before he picked up his toast. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He murmured, before starting to eat.

I opened my eyes and pointed to my kitchen’s other counter, where a cup of tea - rapidly cooling - had been placed, ready for him. “Oh, you’re an angel.” Wesley covered his mouth and mumbled through a mouthful of toast, grabbing his mug and gulping down the tea.

I checked the clock - eyes widening at how late it had gotten without me realising - and munched through the rest of my toast. “Hurry up! We gotta go!” I said plaintively. Wesley grumbled something under his breath, but bent down to begin tying his shoelaces. I decided I could afford a few seconds spent admiring the view. 

“You know we have to be on time.” I pointed out. “I’m never late, and you’re never late, so if we’re suddenly both late together on a Monday morning, can you imagine what the rumour mill is gonna say?”

“Something along the lines of me being the luckiest man alive?” Wesley suggested, still tying.

I couldn’t help but smile and flush slightly. “Stop itttt.” 

“On no account.” Wesley straightened up wrapped his arms around me, resting his forehead on mine. The impulse not to be late fought against an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and comfort. The impulse lost.

I wrapped my arms around him in return, and we swayed slightly in the middle of my kitchen. “This has been the best weekend ever.” I smiled. “Right?”

“Definitely.” Wesley smiled cheekily. “Shame about what happened to the Porsche though.”

“Angel will never notice it’s missing.” I stuck my tongue out again. “And you should stop mentioning the Porsche if you want to keep me happy.”

“Mum’s the word, then.” Wesley nodded gravely, then that coy smile came back. “Are you sure we can’t be a little late?”  
“Sure.” I worked very hard to maintain a serious face.

“Nothing I can say to convince you?” One thing I’d learned this weekend was that Wesley had serious puppy-dog eyes. Very hard to say no to. But not quite impossible.

Even when I really wanted to say yes, and hang work.

“Nothing you can say.” I said firmly.

“Or do?” Wesley planted a feather light kiss on my cheek and I shivered. He began gently trailing down my neck…

“Wesley, unless you want to be the favoured topic of conversation for everyone in the building for the next year, we gotta go!” I laughed, pulling myself away with a great effort. Where were those car keys? I ran over to the shelf by the door, and began frantically searching for them. “I’ve been out drinking with Harmony, trust me, I know how they talk!”

“You went out drinking with Harmony?”

“Long story, lots of alcohol, a _little_ murder.” I held up the keys triumphantly and grinned. “Aha! C’mon, Wes, I don’t want to be the centre of everyone’s gossip!” I smiled, dropping my voice. “Won’t it be so much more fun to keep this secret for a while?”

  
“Oh, I like the idea of that.” Wesley purred, moving towards me (which also meant towards the door, so… win?). “Acting all prim and proper in meetings, when everyone is looking…”

I continued for him. “…then during breaks, or after-hours, or before-hours…” He kissed me thoroughly and I happily reciprocated. When we ran out of breath, I resumed talking. “… we can sneak away to offices or broom closets.”

“I have one particular closet in mind.” Wesley’s eyes gleamed.

I laughed. “You mean the one where I had to literally _throw_ myself at you because all my attempts at seduction failed?”

“Precisely that one.” His smile was utterly unapologetic. 

“Fine. But right now you taste like dry toast, so can we please go?” I sighed. “I don’t wanna go Wes, but we have to. Pleeeeeaaaassseee?”

“Alright, I surrender.” He sighed.

“Thank youuuuuuu.” I kissed him firmly, then turned and ran to the door. “You know I love you, but we gotta go to work!”

I froze at the sharp take of breath from behind me. I spun around, raising a querying eyebrow. Wesley was standing exactly where I’d left him, a look of profound shock on his face. He looked very silly. But still very handsome. In an odd way. “Wes? You okay?” I smiled. He looked flabbergasted.

Now, what had I said? ‘Thank you, you know I…’

Oh. Oh!

“I love you.” I said it again, trying out the words. They felt so right. I beamed. “I love you!” I bounded back over to him, and resigned myself to being at least a little late to work.

When Wesley swept me off my feet and began carrying me back through the apartment (I couldn’t find any desire to resist at all) I realised I was going to be _very_ late to work.

But he was worth it.

\+ + + + + + +

**Fred**

“Are all my buttons done up right?” I muttered, more to myself than to Wesley. I double-checked my blouse: all good. “They are. Okay.”

“You look much better than okay.” Wesley added, charitably but very unhelpfully, from the driver’s seat.

“Okay, here’s the plan.” I ignored his comment, because acknowledging it would mean having to tell him how great he looked, and then we’d end up spending another hour or day in this car. “I’m going to get out here, and walk into work. I’ll be there inside of a minute. You are going to drive this into the car park, get out and go into work. We’ll arrive at slightly different times from completely different entrances, and not absurdly late considering it’s a Monday morning. Got that?”

“Yes ma’am.” Wesley said, voice deadly serious. “Will I see you for lunch?”

“You will.” I promised, and kissed him all-too-briefly. “See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He murmured, and I slipped out of the car, shutting the door behind me.

I did a quick scan of my surroundings as I walked: nobody from work. Perfect. This should keep the secret. I flipped open my phone, checking my emails and calendar. Okay, I had an appointment with Angel booked for… aw shucks, five minutes. There was no point going to the lab. I’d head to Angel’s floor and hope he didn’t mind me being a little early. He normally didn’t.

I walked leisurely through the lobby, pushing the button for the elevator and whistling softly to myself. “Good morning, Dr Burkle.” One of my scientists smiled at me as she arrived at the elevator.

“It is, isn’t it?” I smiled faintly. “Good morning to you too.”

“In a good mood?” She questioned.

Yes. “When aren’t I?” I shrugged.

“Sure.” She pretended to turn away, but kept watching me out of the corner of her eye.

I felt a familiar, uncomfortable prickling feeling, and risked a glance over my shoulder.

_Everyone_ was looking at me.

I glared at them. They almost uniformly started to go about their business. I shifted uncomfortably: so I was a _little_ late. So what? I could be late from time to time!  


I never had been _before_ , but that didn’t mean I wasn’t allowed to! If anything it meant I practically had a right to be late today! They should have been expecting it! 

I was saved from spiralling into paranoia by the arrival of the elevator. “You going to the lab, Henrietta?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Great.” I pushed the button for the lab, then for Angel’s floor. I _caught_ her expression falter out of the corner of my eye. My suspicion thickened, like an inauspicious fog in a fairy tale.

I couldn’t dash out of the elevator fast enough once the doors pinged open. I could see people’s heads turning to look at me. What was happening? I walked as nonchalantly as I could over to Angel’s office and made to knock on the door,

“Hi, Fred!” Harmony waved from her desk.

“Good morning, Harmony.” I waved back.

“How’s things?” Harmony looked at me innocently.

“Fine.” I smiled. “Absolutely fine. And normal.”

“Great. You’re late to work today, what happened there?”

“My… err… alarm, it broke.”

“Did it get kicked?”

“No, how on earth would my alarm have got kicked, it’s on my bedside…”

How could they know??? They couldn’t possibly know! What was going on? Why did people have to pry into my personal life?

“You have a nice day, Harmony.” I knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.

“We should go out for drinks and catch up!” Harmony called out as I slipped into the office. “Tonight! Text me!”

I slammed the door shut and collapsed backwards against it, breathing deeply. Maybe this was a coincidence. Maybe she was just fishing. Maybe it was just classic space-y Harmony.

Maybe.

“Good morning, Fred!” Angel gestured at one of the chairs in front of his desk. I moved over and sat down while he busied himself with some papers. 

“Morning, Angel.” I smiled in as chipper a manner ascould. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, good. I went and stayed with Spike. Apartment problems. But you know how that can happen, right?” Angel shrugged. “You come back from a long night demon hunting, and suddenly the whole place smells weird and it feels like stuff’s been moved around. You know that?”

Oh. 

Oh, I’d forgotten about this. Oh fish-sticks. “Oh, yeah, totally. That… that happens to me all the time!” I frowned, trying not to sweat. Please say this wasn’t because of… “Except normally it happens to me after I’ve drunk too much coffee.”

“Right. Sure.” Angel looked at me. “You have a nice weekend?”

“Good. Relaxing. Varied. Recharged the old batteries. Super normal.”

“That’s fantastic.” Angel smiled, leaning forwards for the first time. “Fred.”

“Angel?” I smiled, fighting down the dread gnawing on my insides.

“When are you sending round the moving people?” Angel cocked his head.

“Moving people?” I said slowly. “What do you mean?”

“To take away the bed. Y’know, since you and Wes already…” Angel’s eyes narrowed it. “ _Claimed it.”_

Oh, that sense of dread had been right. Go dread.

“You know I have super smell right?” Angel said casually. “Do you have any idea how my apartment smells, Fred? The bed, the shower, the comfy chair, that one table - I’m sure you know the one - and my sofa? Would you like me to paint you a _vivid_ picture?”

Oh, why hadn’t I listened when Wesley warned me Angel would smell everything? Besides the fact I’d been really not thinking long-term at that point in time. Oh, regret was terrible.

I felt like my cheeks were on fire. Or maybe made of lava. Either would explain the burning and the bright-red hue I was sure I’d gone. “Angel, I… I can explain.”

“Go ahead, by all means.” Angel pushed back off the desk, spreading his arms wide. “I’m interested.”

“Okay so…” How best to do this? “There was a magic stick, and-”

“Fred, I don’t know to hear about Wesley’s magic stick.” Angel smirked. I felt like melting into a puddle on the floor. “Now. First of all. _Never use my apartment again._ ”

I nodded meekly.

“Second. You are going to get all the pieces of furniture I listed above moved out of my apartment. I don’t care what you do with them, get them gone. Okay?”

I nodded again. Please, let this nightmare end.

“Okay, just one more thing then.” Angel paused. I resisted the urge to shrink in on myself. What was he gonna ask? “Send Wesley in on your way out, he’s waiting for his appointment.”

Oh, _no._

“That’ll be all. You can go.”

I stood up, decided it wasn’t worth trying to gather my lost scraps of dignity, and exited the office. Wesley was standing there, a grim expression on his face. “Bad.” I summarised helpfully. “Very bad.”

“Yes, I got that impression.” Wesley nodded gravely.

“Do you regret it yet?” I asked teasingly.

“Nothing could make that happen.” He said seriously.

Oh, everyone knew already. There was no harm in it. I kissed him on the cheek. “Will I still see you for lunch?”  
“I wouldn’t miss seeing you for the world.” Wesley kissed me on the cheek, put on a comically brave face, and marched into Angel’s office. I looked around the lobby: nobody was trying to hide that they were staring.

I folded my arms and glared at them meaningfully. Once again, they all suddenly found other places to be. I marched to the lifts, mentally planning out my day. Get to my office, catch up with the weekend supervisor, check on the experiments, find and call the number of a removals company to get rid of that bed, check my in-tray for the new urgent projects… God, it was going to be a hell of a day.

But I was seeing Wesley for lunch, which made it heavenly.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far - if you have any constructive criticism or thoughts on the writing, comments are always appreciated!


End file.
